


Three Hearts

by almightygwil (elllie)



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018) Actor RPF
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Pregnancy, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:01:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 42,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29426397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elllie/pseuds/almightygwil
Summary: You can’t stand Ben. Really, truly, can’t stand him. It’s just your luck that he gets you pregnant.
Relationships: Ben Hardy/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	1. Whatever You Want

**Author's Note:**

> Three Hearts // Alex Clare

“You were...out of control.”

“Please, god, don’t remind me,” you groaned, head falling into your hands. “I _still_ feel hungover. I don’t plan on drinking like that ever again.”

The break room was empty save for you and Sarah and you picked at your salad lazily. “Ben’s still talking about it,” she revealed smugly.

“ _Definitely_ don’t bring up Ben to me. That’s probably why I still feel like shit.” Despite yourself, you laughed softly. Your friend rolled her eyes.

“Have you spoken to him since then?” She prodded.

You scoffed. “Yes, Ben and I talk on the phone four times a week, didn’t you know?” Your facetious tone only made her chuckle.

“That makes about ten phone calls since you hooked up,” she sing-songed. You gagged, but she just ignored you. “Seriously. We’re all still—christ, we’re just shocked.” She shook her head, pushing around her own lunch. You crossed your legs, sipping your water and staring through the glass walls into the office. “I mean, years— _years!_ —of hating one another, gone in a moment.”

“Decidedly not gone,” you declared. “Still hate Ben.”

“You slept together!”

“I was desperate! And seriously, _seriously_ fucking drunk.” Your fork continued pushing around your salad, your mind somewhere else entirely. _Desperate_ was the understatement of the century. It was an unbearably hot August, made more unbearable by the fact that you had suffered through an inhumanely long dry spell. In short, after three shots of Patron and a poorly mixed cocktail, you would have slept with anything on two legs—or anything that vaguely resembled something on two legs. And there was Ben.

Hate was a strong word, but it wasn’t nearly strong enough to explain how you felt about him. You had spent years bickering with him, trying to find a way to tolerate that green-eyed monster, to no avail. When you were sufficiently drunk and suffocatingly horny, Ben was the only person available to you. No relationship to ruin with a drunken hookup. So you took what was handed to you and you didn’t cry about it.

“Drunk or not, you slept with him. We won’t let it go.” Sarah continued.

You felt your stomach turn from either her words or your salad, but you suppressed the urge to gag again, clenching your muscles. “Let me forget about this.” Your tone was joking but your words were an honest plea. She just shrugged.

“You coming tonight?” She changed the subject.

Giving up on your lunch, you tossed your fork into your lunchbag and closed the container your salad was in. “Depends. Will there be alcohol, or will Ben be there?” You tilted your head and she laughed, beginning to pack up her own lunch.

“No boys allowed tonight. Alcohol optional.” She put up her right hand in a promise and you rolled your eyes, unable to hide your grin.

“Then count me in.”

***

Though you dreaded seeing your friends all in one place, where they all undoubtedly knew about your drunken tryst with Ben, you needed a break. Your job, which had once been your favorite thing in the world, was now nothing more than an inconvenience. Most things had felt that way in the past few weeks. Ben had somehow managed to weasel his way into every facet of your life to ruin the things you thought you’d once loved. When he ruined your friend group, you let it slide. It was just an obstacle. But since sleeping with him, you seemed to lose interest in most anything you had once enjoyed.

But Ben wouldn’t ruin a night in with your friends. You simply wouldn’t let him.

So, when you knocked on the door and Jessie swung it open, you grinned and wrapped your arms around her. “Hey, you made it!” She exclaimed, pulling back to look at you.

You began to deliver a reply when your nose wrinkled, almost imperceptibly. “What is that?” You coughed, stepping inside when she opened the door for you.

“What’s what?” She returned, hanging your bag as you kicked off your shoes. You could hear Sarah and Rylie in the kitchen chattering, but all you could focus on was the smell. “Oh, Rylie is making brownies. I thought you loved her brownies.” 

You frowned, following Jessie to the kitchen. “I do.”

There were certain traditions that were meant to be upheld forever. Nights in without the boys were one of those traditions. They were nights you cherished, not just because it was the original four, but because you needed a break from the boys. 

You and Sarah had been roommates in college and Jessie and Rylie had lived across the hall. It was rare for it to be just the four of you anymore after Rylie and Harry, Ben’s best friend, had gotten together, which made nights in a luxury. At some point, Sarah had felt just as much disdain for Ben as you had. She was that kind of friend. But somehow, he wiggled his way into your own best friend’s heart. If you weren’t so secure, you’d be jealous. 

Okay, maybe you were jealous. But only a little. 

When you arrived in the kitchen, you found yourself woozy with the strong scent of the brownies. Jessie hopped on the counter beside Sarah, a glass of wine passed to her. “She’s here,” Jessie lilted, a sly smirk on her face.

Rylie spun around to grin at you and you groaned, dropping into a chair. “No.”

“ _Yes_!” She exclaimed. “I made brownies for you, so you have no choice but to sit there while we drink and you tell us all about it.” She grinned, leaning onto her elbows to stare at you. Jessie and Sarah spun to look at you too and you got the distinct feeling, deep in your gut, that you wouldn’t be getting out of this.

“Fine.” You caved, resting your chin in your palm. “But I can’t eat the brownies.”

All three girls’ faces twisted. “Excuse me?”

“What the _hell_ are you talking about, _you can’t the brownies_?” Jessie squealed. “I swear to god, if we let you, you’d eat the whole pan by yourself.”

You winced. “I know. I don’t know what it is, I’m just...I don’t know.” You shrugged.

Your friends look to one another and Sarah turned to face you fully, her brow furrowed in worry. “Are you okay? You didn’t eat your lunch today either.”

You allowed yourself to chuckle at their seriousness, though you felt your stomach flip with nerves. “I’m _fine_. Seriously.” You rolled your eyes. “Anyway, there’s nothing to talk about. Ben and I did something that we both regret, and now it’s over, and we’re never going to talk about it ever again.” It was a plea that was ignored. Rylie turned to take the brownies out of the oven.

“Well, actually,” she began. You didn’t miss the sidelong glance shared between Jessie and Sarah. “According to Harry, Ben has been talking about it,” she revealed, a small smile on her face. “From the sounds of it, it doesn’t sound like he regrets it, and it _definitely_ doesn’t sound like he’s going to forget it.”

“That prick!” You gaped, a pout overtaking your face. “He’s just going around talking about it? And to my friends no less?”

“Y/N, we’re his friends, too,” Jessie reminded you. 

You glanced at the brownies and felt your stomach turn again. You took a deep breath to calm yourself, closing your eyes. “I know,” you ceded.

There was a beat of silence and Sarah finally accepted your defeat. “Y/N, settle this for us—Rylie wants to watch _Grease_ but Jess wants to watch _Starsky and Hutch_.” 

You giggled. “Are those our only options?”

An hour later, you weren’t even halfway through _About a Boy_ (a fair compromise) but your eyes were closed, sleep clouding your mind as you listened to Hugh Grant. Even with your eyes closed, you knew your friends were gawking at you, so you cracked an eye open to look back. All three of them watched you, brows furrowed in concern. Half asleep, you still found the energy to roll your eyes. “Can I help you?”

“Seriously, are you sick?” Rylie pushed, nudging your ankle from the floor.

“Is it a crime to be tired?” You asked rhetorically, kicking her playfully.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sarah sat up straight, the blanket around her shoulders falling down. “So, you aren’t eating and you’re tired all the time.”

Jessie rolled her eyes. “Thanks, Sar. I’m glad we’ve cleared that up.”

Sarah tossed a pillow at your friend and you all giggled. “Now, I’m not _not_ eating. I ate before I got here.” You brushed her off. “Besides, I don’t want to eat a salad and a few brownies and suddenly I’m ‘not eating?’”

“Put your finger quotes away,” Sarah demanded. “I just mean...that’s, y’know, reason for concern.”

You looked at her incredulously. “Concern for _what_?”

In a moment, it seemed as though all three of your friends have gotten the same idea and you narrowed your eyes at them. Rylie opened her mouth first. “Who would’ve thought Y/N would be the first one to get pregnant?”

“I totally thought it was going to be you,” Jessie agreed.

“Hey, hey, hey, I’m not pregnant!” You laughed. “I’m not. I think I just picked up a bug or something.”

The four of you sat in silence for a moment and your disbelief faded into something familiar and raw: terror. Your stomach turned for the nth time but this time, it wasn’t your appetite. You pursed your lips and sunk further into your seat.

“If you are pregnant, name the baby after me,” Rylie quipped and then you were all laughing again.

***

You ended up sleeping on Jessie’s couch, curled up beside Rylie. You woke up the following morning cramped, alone, and listening to your friends talking. Your eyes fluttered open, arms stretching above your head as you struggled to come to consciousness.

It was when you heard Ben’s voice. It was when you began to panic slightly.

Sitting up swiftly, you ignored your headrush and folded your blanket hastily. The voices in the kitchen got louder as they all laughed and you were hit with another heady wave of anxiety. You threw the folded blanket on the couch and grabbed your phone from the coffee table.

Just as you were pulling on your second shoe, you heard a snort from behind you. “Not going to say goodbye?” Ben goaded, snickering softly when you swung around to face him.

Your face set in a glare. “That was the plan.”

He frowned, hands raising slightly as his brow quirked. “Well, that’s not very friendly, is it?”

Your face twisted in incredulous resentment, anger taking root in the pit of your stomach as you turned to face him fully. “I hope you’re joking.”

He looked back, slightly confused. “What do you mean?”

“We aren’t friends, Ben.”

He laughed. _Laughed_. Your anger only grew fiercer and you resisted the urge to lunge at him. “That may be the case, but those people in the kitchen? Those are your friends.”

You stared at him, face devoid of emotion. And then you felt it. With a sick combination of your anxiety, anger, and whatever bug you had picked up, your stomach began to turn. You rushed toward Ben, pushing past him and hurrying down the hall toward the bathroom. Faintly, after you had thrown up and you were catching your breath, you heard his voice again.

“God, I didn’t know she found me _that_ repulsive.”

They all began to laugh again, but you didn’t hear them. You were too busy throwing up again.

***

The following Monday, your chin was resting in the palm of your hand as you stared at your computer lazily. One glance at the clock told you that you only had to suffer through another hour of work before you could go home, take off your work pants, and watch Netflix for six consecutive hours.

You were practically asleep when Sarah rolled her chair over to your desk. “Hard at work or hardly workin’?” She giggled.

You chuffed a laugh, shaking your head and finding your consciousness. “No cute sayings at my desk.” You chastised, ignoring her laughter.

She nudged you, opening your drawer and digging through your belongings, humming triumphantly as she found some candy shoved in the back corner. “Yeah, yeah, I know the rules,” she scoffed, popping the hard candy into her mouth and dropping the wrapper in your garbage can. Muffled by the candy, she said, “Hey, we’re all going to the bar tonight, you in?”

You snickered, shaking your head and looking away from your computer screen. “Nah, I’m still not feeling great. I think I just need to sleep this off.”

“You’re still feeling sick?” She frowned, rubbing your shoulder softly.

“Yeah, but I think it’s coming to an end,” you tried to assure her and, in part, yourself.

“Well, we’ll call tonight and see if you’ve changed your mind,” she decided, rapping her knuckles twice on your desk. You grinned.

“Promise?”

“Swear.”

You shook your head, still smiling. “You heading out early, then?”

“Yeah, I think so.” She began to roll her chair away before thinking better of it and coming back. “Hey, I’ll tell Ben hi from you.”

You laughed, kicking her chair away from you. “He knows better than to believe I said that.” She laughed along with you in agreement and nodded, beginning to roll away once more before she came back. “God, you’re just obsessed with me.”

“Buy a pregnancy test, yeah?”

You threw your head back and covered your mouth to hide your laugh. “Fuck off,” you giggled, using both hands to push her chair away. 

She rolled away, laughing. “Love you.”

“Have fun tonight,” you ordered, turning back to your computer.

You weren’t pregnant. You _weren’t_. There was no way. You took your pills religiously. Well, you had. At some point. You thought you’d been taking them, but there was less pressure, what with all the sex you weren’t having. Leaning back in your chair, you tried to remember when, exactly, you’d last missed your pill. 

You frowned. Better question: when was the last time you’d _taken_ your pill?

You scoffed at yourself. Even if you hadn’t taken your pill, there was no way you’d forgotten to use a condom. No way. It just wasn’t you. 

With another look at the clock, you gave up. You could afford to leave thirty minutes early. 

On your walk home, you decided to stop being ridiculous. You were not pregnant, so what was the harm in taking a stupid test? It was a longer walk past the drugstore, but your own peace of mind was more valuable than the Netflix time you were missing out on. With your heart in your throat, you walked a little faster than usual, played your music a little louder, and began to plan out the rest of your night after you took the test.

***

Taking a pregnancy is unnecessarily difficult. 

Peeing on a stick shouldn’t have been so frustrating, but maybe it was your nerves. Your slightly shaking hands. If you were prepared to be honest with yourself, you would admit that you understood your own nerves. However, headstrong as ever, you rolled your eyes at yourself. “This is ridiculous,” you muttered softly.

From somewhere in the apartment, you could hear Milo mewl softly in response. The pregnancy test, still working it’s magic, rested on the counter, the end hanging carefully in the air. You took a deep breath. 

Your work pants had long been discarded, quiet music playing throughout the apartment in a thinly-veiled attempt to self-soothe. Your heart pounded against your chest despite yourself as you paced down the hallway, the bathroom door open as you waited. The test taunted you, even from ten feet away, so you paused your steps.

With your hands on your hips to balance yourself, your head dropped to take a deep breathe. Milo nudged his head against your calf, purring despite your inattention. Leaning down, you picked up the cat, your eyes closing as he nuzzled your cheek.

“I’m not pregnant, Milo,” you scoffed. You opened your eyes to give him a convincing look.

He looked back at you, seemingly uninvested. 

“I mean, that’s ridiculous, right? You know me. I’m responsible. I could never get pregnant on accident.”

Milo mewled in response and you sighed, holding him a little closer.

“I know. It’s not all about being responsible. But I am.” You paused. “I think.”

And then the timer went off.

You inhaled sharply, setting Milo gently on his feet before steadying yourself. For a brief moment, you allowed yourself to think the impossible. What was the plan if you _were_ pregnant?

There was a flash in your mind, like a picture you had seen before but couldn’t quite remember. A little baby with your hair and Ben’s eyes in your arms. The details of your mental picture were fuzzy, but you were there. And so was a baby.

You shook your head to clear your mind of the thought. You began the short walk to your bathroom, Milo following you diligently. As though he knew you needed the company. In the doorway of the bathroom, you could see the test but not the result. You looked down to the cat. “This is it, Milo.”

He waited patiently, rubbing between your calves. You took a stabilizing breath, rubbing your shaky hands on your thighs before taking your first step into the bathroom. The test was within reach and carefully, so carefully, you reached out and picked it up.

Between your fingers layed your fate. If you weren’t so goddamn stubborn, you would have already known. There wasn’t really any other way to construe the pairing of the symptoms. You should have known because when you looked at the test, it was clear as day. Two pink lines, dark and straight and oh-so-certain. You were pregnant.

Tears built in your eyes. Later, you would blame them on your hormones, but now, you know what they were from.

You were scared.

Petrified. Was there any other way to think of it? Any other way to feel? Maybe. Maybe if you were married, in an apartment with more than one bedroom. If you had anyone to help you aside from Milo.

“Milo, I’m sorry I lied to you,” you frowned, voice watery. You sat on the ground, cold tile biting into your bare legs. Milo climbed into your lap. “I lied. I _am_ pregnant.”

When you broke into more tears, Milo nuzzled your cheek again.

You couldn’t be entirely sure how long you sat on your bathroom floor, Milo in your lap as you cried. Eventually, your legs fell asleep and the tile warmed under your body. The music playing was meant to distract you, but suddenly all the songs that played were love songs, and all you could hear was the word ‘baby’ and then you were throwing up, Milo scampering from the bathroom as you bent over the toilet.

Soon, you were sobbing even harder, the sound of your wailing echoing through the bathroom. You clambered to your feet, face wet with tears. You stumbled from the bathroom, legs tingling as you struggled toward the living room. You searched for your phone, praying to whatever higher power was listening that your neighbors couldn’t hear you through your criminally thin walls.

You paused the music. Finally, in the silence of your apartment, you had a moment of clarity. 

This was it. You were pregnant. 

With Ben’s baby, no less.

You wondered what sort of karmic joke this was meant to be. What had you done? What could have possibly been so bad that you were stuck with _Ben_ for the rest of your life? And then, you thought, shortly, for just one moment, maybe he wasn’t so bad. You saw how he was with your friends. You _wanted_ to be friends with that Ben.

You were pulled from your reverie by your phone ringing in your hand. Though you weren’t sure you had the energy to talk to your friends, you knew that if you didn’t answer, there would be a drunken brigade at your door within the hour.

You sniffled, took a deep breath, and answered the phone. “Hey!” You exclaimed, closing your eyes.

“Y/N!” Though it was Sarah’s phone calling you, Mark’s voice was the one speaking to you.

“How is it?”

“It sucks,” he declared. “You know what would make it better?”

You released a watery laugh, hoping your friends were drunk enough that it sounded normal. “No, I don’t. What?”

“If you came out!” Rylie cried.

You heard all your friends cheering in the background of the call and you realized you were on speaker. You released a small sigh and brightened your voice. “I don’t know, guys. I have work tomorrow.”

You heard Smith scoff. “Grow up! We all have work tomorrow.”

Somehow, they managed to pull another laugh from you. “Seriously guys. I’m still kind of sick. Maybe next week, okay?”

“You suck,” Sarah pitched in.

“I know.” Your stomach began to turn again and you closed your eyes, trying to keep the contents of your stomach down. “Hey, I have to go. I love you guys, okay?”

You heard your friends calling out their salutations but you barely listened, hanging up and rushing back to the bathroom.

You spent the rest of the night in bed. You lie in silence, mostly, your brain overworking and filling the silence. You had to tell Ben.

The following morning, you decided to call him first thing, before you lost your nerve. It didn’t keep you from panicking and you thanked god that, at the very least, you weren’t so nauseous today.

He picked up on the third ring and you took a deep breath.

“Y/N?” He asked.

All at once, you felt your stomach churn and you couldn’t tell if it was your anxiety or morning sickness. “Hey,” you say plainly.

“Uh, hey.” Ben cleared his throat. “What’s up?”

You cleared your own throat, coughing slightly as your heart rate began to pick up. It was now or never. “Hey, remember Mark’s birthday?”

There was a heavy moment of silence on the line and Ben’s own heart rate sped up. He breathed out, “Yeah.” You searched for the right words to say, coming up empty handed. “Actually, you know, I’m glad you called about that. I wanted to—”

“I’m pregnant.”

“No, you aren’t.”

You blanched, a scandalized gasp ripping through the air. For a moment, your fear was forgotten and was replaced by hot, quick anger. “Yes, I am, you—you... _Ben_!”

He breathed out a soft, disbelieving laugh and if you could see him, you’d be able to see that he was shaking his head. “Is that your idea of an insult?”

“It’s the worst thing I could even imagine,” you scoffed.

“Okay, let’s say you are pregnant—”

“You fucking _asshole_ —”

“Let’s say you are, okay?” He countered. “Who’s to say it’s mine?”

If there was anything Ben was good at, it was making you regret things. Going out with your friends, taking a certain course, sleeping with him. It was what he was good at. Making you hate yourself. It had been one night. Drunken and a little desperate and very needed. And a total disaster. You were left with the collateral. Regretting it.

“Okay, first of all, you’re the first person I’ve slept with all year—”

“It’s fucking _August_!” It was Ben’s turn to be scandalized, lungs searching for air at the prospect of your dry spell.

“Yeah, Ben, I know,” you snapped. “ _Second_ of all, in what world would I _choose_ to have a baby that’s half you?” 

Ben was silent for a long moment. Part of you began to wonder if he hung up when he released a tremulous breath. For a split second, you worried.

“Ben?” You asked softly, brows knitting together in concern.

“You’re serious?” He finally asked, voice soft. You could almost hear fear and you felt a little validated.

“Yeah,” you breathed. “I just thought...I don’t know, I thought you should know.”

“Can I come over?”

***

Ben found a way to look comfortable almost anywhere he went, but on your couch, he didn’t fit. Not surrounded by the soft, cream fabric and the pale pink blanket and the navy throw pillows. He looked out of place. It made you feel slightly better. His knee bounced nervously, brows knitted together in worry.

The two of you were caught in a silent staredown, his green eyes piercing into yours as you curled into the loveseat across the room.

“So…” he breathed.

You were silent.

“You’re keeping it?” He asked. You furrowed your brows and he sat up a little straighter. “I just mean, on the phone, you said ‘in what world would you choose to have a baby that’s half me.’ You made it sound like you were going to have it.” You opened your mouth to reply but he threw his hands up, palms facing you. “Not that I’m pressuring you! It’s...y’know, it’s your decision.”

Finally, you said, “It’s not just my baby, Ben.”

A small part of him felt relieved. “But it’s in you.”

Tiredly, you laughed, shaking your head. Ben allowed himself a shy smile. “It is.” You conceded.

“It’s your decision. It affects you more than it does me.” He said softly. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

You took a deep breath and verbalized what you already knew. “I’m keeping it.”

Ben exhaled sharply. You were too tired to fight him anymore, so where you usually would have made a snarky comment, you only sighed along with him. “I want to be involved. If you’ll let me.”

“You don’t have to do that.” 

Ben frowned. “I want to. I want to be around. I know that we’ve...we’ve had our differences, but I want to be around for you. And I want to be around for the—the baby, you know?”

Though you thought you’d cried all your tears, you felt that familiar burn behind your eyes again. Ben must have seen the twist in your expression because in a moment, he was on his feet and by your side. Crouching beside your chair, Ben took your hands in his. 

As your tears began to fall, you looked down at Ben, all smooth skin and worried green eyes and calloused hands. It was so unfamiliar and somehow so comforting, Ben’s thumbs stroking your hands as you blubbered. He knew; he could see it in your eyes. The gripping terror seizing your muscles until you could barely breathe. He knew, but you still said, “I’m scared.” Simple. True.

“I’m scared, too,” he admitted. He held your hands so close to his face that you could feel the soft brush of his exhale. Ben watched you, eyes serious. “I’m fucking terrified.”

You sobbed loudly, unexpectedly, and he felt the sharp sting of tears behind his own eyes. The emotions between you were palpable, the fear and anger and sadness. There was nothing so unjust, you conceded. So unjust that you had done everything right and still ended up exactly where you feared most.

Ben’s heart ached for you, the loud tears and unsaid words and loose ends. It was almost silly, the two of you crying together when you’d been on the verge of screaming at him in Jessie’s living room just days before. Any other time, you might laugh. If you were friends, if you weren’t sobbing. If, if, _if_.

Ben stared up at you desperately, searching for something he couldn’t see. He wanted you to say something. Wanted to hear you and reassure you and make you feel safe. He wanted so many things, for you and from you, but he couldn’t verbalize a single one. The way he looked at you, it made you think maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

“We need to make a doctor’s appointment.” You choked out.

Ben allowed himself a disbelieving laugh, looking up at you. “We will.”

“And we can’t tell the others. Not yet.”

“Whatever you want.”

As though a wall between you had fallen, you felt a sudden rush of gratitude for Ben. Not for getting you pregnant, but for being there for you.

“We can do this, right?”

And he broke into a smile, one you allowed yourself a moment to admire. “Of course we can,” he breathed.

You believe him.


	2. Friendly-adjacent.

“Get that the hell away from me,” you gagged.

Ben frowned, shoving the remainder of his bagel into his mouth. “How can you smell a _bagel_?” The question was muffled by his breakfast and you looked at him curiously, as though you weren’t sure exactly what he was doing.

“It’s an everything bagel, Ben. It stinks.” You picked at the cinnamon roll before you. “Besides, it’s not only the smell. Just the thought of it makes me gag.”

Ben put his hands up in defeat, shrugging. “Okay, fine.” He conceded, sipping his coffee. He checked his watch and you pulled a notebook from your purse, sitting up straight and pushing your breakfast away. “We’ve only got thirty minutes until the appointment starts. Do you want to head out now, or…” Ben trailed off.

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, Ben. That’s why I pulled a notebook out.” His jaw clenched and you sighed softly, catching one of his legs between both of yours. “I’m sorry,” you apologized. His eyes squinted in suspicion and your brows drew together, nose scrunching in distaste as you felt your regret replaced with annoyance. “It’s an apology, Ben.” 

“Thanks,” he deadpanned.

It was amazing how quickly your mood had begun to change. It made Ben’s head spin. Some moments, you were saccharine sweet and overwhelmingly soft, like he could wrap you in his arms and all you would do is laugh as he spun you around, no pounding fists or displeased yelling. In seconds, you could look at him like you were now, brows furrowed into a hard glare and annoyance almost tangible. Biting words and sharp edges. It was the way he knew you best, the way he had known you the longest, but he much preferred your softer side. He was steadily learning how to handle both, but he liked when you liked him. 

You pursed your lips before clearing your throat. “ _Anyway_ , I was thinking we should set up some rules. Or, I don’t know...not rules. Guidelines?” 

He nodded once, entwining his fingers and resting his chin on them. “That’s a good idea.”

You grinned, keening at praise. “Thank you. So, just, y’know, give me some ideas.”

Back to being sweet, or as sweet as you got with him. He fought the glittering grin that threatened to expose him. He didn’t need you to know how fond he was of you. Not yet. That could wait.

Years of distaste had built up, leaving you with a bitter taste and sharp words on your tongue at even the sound of Ben’s name. He couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t stand that you hated him so, over one wrong step—literally—and the years of misunderstanding that followed. 

You had first met Ben in college, though he could barely remember your first encounter, fuzzy although not entirely missing from his memory, unfortunately. He had been blind drunk and no doubt embarrassing. Even the thought made him turn away from your gaze, heat rising up his chest. It had been stupid, something drunk Ben happened to be, undoubtedly and without fail. Rylie and Harry had just begun dating and they had wanted nothing more than for you and Ben to get along, but Ben was a klutz, especially when he was drunk. A spilled drink and the lack of an apology.

You could still feel the stickiness of the poorly mixed rum and coke on your skin and you could still see the stain on your brand new shoes. You were understanding, always, but Ben just giggled and hummed a, “Whoops.” A spilled drink and the lack of an apology.

It had made it hard to be understanding. Especially when, the next day, after being dragged to your dorm by Harry and Riley, instead of apologizing, he just leaned against the door jamb of your room and said, “Well, you wore it well.” Not even Harry could defend his best friend.

It had been a humiliating experience, for both of you. You later learned that Harry and Rylie were trying to set you up on a date. The idea you had been so entirely disgusted with, Ben had revered with shame and the smallest flash of hope. Rylie had confirmed what he already knew: he had messed it up beyond repair, the nail in his proverbial coffin being the encounter in your doorway. 

Pushing the memory away, his heart banging in his chest like a bass drum, Ben looked out the window pensively. After a moment, he said, “I don’t want you to feel like I’m trying to make your decisions.”

“Aha! Number one,” you transcripted. “Y/N and Ben have complete autonomy.” You looked up at him, waiting patiently for another of his ideas.

Ben smiled. “It’s your turn.”

You pursed your lips in thought, glancing out the window to mirror Ben. “Communication?”

“Expand on that,” he teased, sipping his coffee again.

“I’m not doing that whole thing where we fight because the other person isn’t properly informed. Let’s just put it all out on the table, you know? Proper communication,” you suggested, twirling your pen around your fingers.

“I think that’s a great one.” He nodded.

You were beginning to get used to Ben. Not necessarily beginning to _like_ him, but beginning to tolerate him. You hoped, further down the line, that maybe you and Ben would be able to be friends. Or friend-adjacent. For now, you were fine with tolerating him. Ben seemed less inclined to annoy the hell out of you when you were carrying his child. It was a little too early to tell whether or not you and Ben could become acclimated to one another. It had only been three weeks since you’d found out and you and Ben hadn’t spent any more time than usual together. You still had a lot to figure out.

At the very least, Ben cared. He found you an obstetrician, made sure you were fine with her, and made your first appointment. Sometimes, you found he cared a little too much. A little too obviously. It led you to another rule. “I don’t want to tell anyone about this. Until the second trimester.” Ben nodded in agreement and you raised a brow. “That means no more repeats of what happened on Friday.”

There had been a few too many sidelong glances, a few too many observational friends. The eight of you were together and things were meant to be normal—as usual. So, as usual, you went to a bar. However, for obvious reasons, you weren’t drinking. Ben had watched you all night, nursing your drink (a classic, and totally non-alcoholic, soda), green eyes almost glazed over as he stared at you, the alcohol making his attention increasingly obvious.

He had managed to convince your friends he was still thinking of a particularly nasty row the two of you had gotten into a few days before and luckily, your friends had been just buzzed enough to believe it. It had left the two of you sufficiently shaken.

“Prudence is key. Totally got it.”

“Ben…” Your tone was one of warning and he rolled his eyes.

“I know, Y/N. I’ll try to cool it with the watching.” He shrugged.

You raised a brow and nodded your head. “I’m glad you agree.”

Ben glanced again at his watch. “As much as I’m loving this, the appointment now starts in twenty-five minutes and it’ll take us, at the very least, fifteen minutes to get there.”

“That gives us ten minutes,” you reminded, picking at your cinnamon roll. When you took another bite, your nose scrunched. Shaking your head, you pushed it away. Your food aversion gave you whiplash; in seconds, you could go from devouring your food to gagging at the thought of whatever was in front of you. Of all the things you had been going through, nausea, drowsiness, lightheadedness, food aversion was your least favorite. Irritated you the most.

Without acknowledging it, Ben grabbed the fork from your hand and began to eat the pastry quickly. With his mouth full of what was once your breakfast, he raised a curious eyebrow and asked, “You really want to cut it that close?”

“Ben, has anyone ever told you that you’re paranoid?” You asked, dropping your notebook into your purse. “With boundary issues?”

“I would argue that you could manage to be _more_ paranoid,” he pushed, ignoring your afterthought. The cinnamon roll was gone, seemingly in a second and you marveled over how quickly he ate, before he was standing and shrugging his jacket on. You rolled your eyes and put your own jacket on. “Besides, it’s a new doctor. You’ll want to get there a little early.”

“To make a good impression,” you teased. Ben couldn’t fight the laugh that bubbled up in his chest.

“Amongst other things.”

***

You couldn’t remember the last time you had been in a gynecologist's office that doubled as an obstetrician. The cartoon animals painted across the walls and the toys in the corner of the room only served to make you anxious, your foot tapping impatiently. 

“Can you relax?” Ben asked, his arm across the back of your chair. You turned to look at him, suddenly annoyed. Not for the first time that morning, his hands raised in surrender. The one not behind you, anyway. “I’m just saying. It’s pretty much just a pap smear.”

You gaped at him, turning in your seat to fully face him. “How would _you_ know?” Ben opened his mouth to answer, but you cut him off. “Wait, how do you even know what a pap smear _is_?”

His cheeks flushed. “I looked it up. That’s usually what they do at the first appointment.”

“Ben Jones, you continue to surprise me.” You shook your head. Ben smiled proudly.

“Just want to keep informed,” he replied coolly. While you struggled to fight a smile, a nurse opened a door across the room.

“Y/N?”

You and Ben both swung your heads to look at her, a nervous smile overtaking your lips. “That’s us,” Ben called, grabbing your purse from the floor before standing up. He turned to look at you expectantly. “Ready?” He reached a hand out for you and you looked at it in surprise, your gaze moving up to his face.

You took a deep breath. “Um, I guess so.”

Ben’s hand remained steady and you hesitated for a moment before grabbing it. This, you supposed, was the new normal. Relying on Ben. It didn’t help that you could feel half a cinnamon roll coming up. You squeezed Ben’s hand to keep yourself grounded.

The nurse led the two of you back to an exam room and you clung to Ben, your purse in one of his hands and your hand in the other. “So, Y/N, you’re new with us, yeah?”

“I am,” you confirmed, looking to Ben. He only smiled reassuringly, squeezing your hand once. Friend-adjacent was becoming an increasingly clear picture with him.

“And this is your first pregnancy?” She looked at the two of you and her lips quirked, almost imperceptibly.

“Yeah, so I’m...kind of lost here.” You laughed nervously. 

She smiled reassuringly. “Well, hey, I’m just going to start by asking you a few questions, okay?” When you nodded, she waved you toward the exam table. You let go of Ben’s hand and sat cautiously on the end of the table, the paper crinkling beneath you. “Do you guys have a rough estimate of how far along you are? A conception date?”

You looked at Ben with your brow furrowed and he cleared his throat. “About six weeks,” he answered.

She smiled at him and nodded once before training her eyes on the computer screen before her. “Are you on any new medications?”

Ben watched as you answered the nurses questions, increasingly comfortable, and he bit his lip to contain the smile growing on his lips, looking across the room and out the window. Despite the chair beside him, your purse still rested comfortably in his hands. He liked this. Liked when the two of you got along. When he got to pretend that you were his girl.

It wasn’t like Ben was in love with you, or anything. But he was close. It was something he could picture, that he liked to imagine. But he would never admit that to you. Or anyone. Not even Harry knew. Getting you pregnant was not the plan. Definitely not. But looking at you here, giggling along with something the nurse said, he felt a little twinge in his heart. He was glad it was him, even if you weren’t.

“Have you been experiencing any mood swings?”

When you scoffed, Ben raised a brow. “No,” you answered assuredly. You looked to Ben to ensure you were right only to see his surprised expression. “Do you think so?”

He winced. “I don’t want to step on your toes.”

You glared at him. “Ben, what’s rule number two?”

You both know the answer without having to say it aloud. _Proper communication_.

He pursed his lips and nodded once. “Mood swings are...not rare,” he admitted. Your brow furrowed and he reached out a hand, just slightly. “But not very bad, if that makes it better.”

The nurse chuckled at the two of you, shaking her head. “Moderate?”

Ben shrugged, mouthing a ‘ _sorry_ ’ to you. You huffed out a laugh, rolling your eyes. “Yeah. Moderate.”

When the nurse exited the room, you turned to Ben with a sly smile. “You know you can tell me to fuck off when I have a mood swing, right?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not doing that.”

“You had no problem doing that a few weeks ago.”

As he gazed at you, you saw a flash of something new. Amusement? Affection? Surprise? You couldn’t tell. It was gone before your could decipher it. “That was different.”

“Why?” 

He paused, looking away with a new blush spread over the bridge of his nose. “You weren’t, y’know...pregnant. You’re carrying my child now.”

You gagged, hopping off the exam table to sit in the chair beside him. “Don’t say it like that.” You laughed, reaching for your purse. You dug the notebook out and flipped it open, grabbing a pen from the pocket.

“Why not? It’s true.”

“Yeah, but that makes it sound, like, romantic.” You looked at him from the corner of your eye. “Unless you got me pregnant on purpose, this isn’t romantic.” And then, as though you’ve come to a realization, you said, “Actually, if you got me pregnant on purpose, this _definitely_ isn’t romantic. And I don’t feel safe.”

Ben threw his head back in a loud laugh, shaking his head. “Did not get you pregnant on purpose,” he promised.

You smiled smally and wrote something else on the list you’d started in the cafe before dropping the notebook into your purse. Ben silently offered to hold it again and you allowed him to take it back, a tiny skip of your heart taking you off guard. “Thanks.”

“For not getting you pregnant on purpose? Because I really don’t—”

“No, you idiot. For being here with me. For supporting me through this.” You rolled your eyes, slightly irritated. For the first time, you noticed a mood swing and you felt your cheeks warm.

Ben was silent for a moment, contemplative. “Y/N—”

A soft knock echoed through the room before the door to the exam room opened and you jumped from your chair, hopping back on the exam table as the doctor entered the room. “Y/N?”

You grinned at the doctor as Ben sat back in his chair, his breathing uneven. “Hi, Dr. Clare!”

The doctor grinned at you, reaching out a hand to shake yours. “Nice to meet you.” Her attention turned toward Ben, who smiled sheepishly. “Is this dad?” 

Ben nodded and stood, reaching out to shake her hand as well. “Ben, lovely to meet you.” She smiled warmly.

“Actually,” you smiled over to Ben. “It was Ben who found you, so we’ve got him to thank for meeting at all.”

Ben flushed even harder, smiling bashfully at the doctor, who looked pleasantly surprised. “Well, Ben, I’m glad to hear you’re becoming involved in Y/N’s pregnancy.”

“I can assure you, he’s already been plenty involved,” you teased, patting your stomach softly. The doctor only giggled, shaking her head and sliding a pair of gloves on as Ben coughed awkwardly. Irritability was gone and you showed him a side he rarely got to see, a side that prodded Ben like you were friends. Playful.

“Oh, Christ,” he cursed, ignoring your laughter.

“You’ll have to excuse Ben. He’s not much fun,” you continued.

Ben spoke up. “Now, I resent that. I’m a lot of fun, when the time is right,” he said pointedly. He shared a knowing look with the doctor and the nurse and you rolled your eyes at the sight. What did _that_ mean?

“Are you two together?” The doctor laughed quietly, raising a brow.

The answer was quick and in unison. “No.” 

“Well, we’re going to do your cervical exam now. Y/N, are you okay if Ben is in the room for this?” She asked. She crossed the room to close the shades and you nodded.

“Of course,” and then, shyly, “if he wants to be.”

You both shared a look, Ben lips turning up into a smile as he nodded. As you positioned your legs in the stirrups, Ben looked down at his shoes, suddenly shy. He heard the doctor chattering along with you, but when he looked up, your eyes were on him. You motioned him to come closer and, without hesitation, Ben complied. As quietly as possible, he picked up his chair and moved it up beside the table.

Friend-adjacent was decidedly becoming more clear.

***

A week after your first appointment and almost that long since you had talked to Ben, you sat in a cafe with Riley at your side and Jesse and Sarah across from you. You picked at the sandwich on your plate, mostly eating the fries surrounding it as your friends talked around you. You were barely listening, crafting a list in your mind of the things you had to do before your next appointment. Your life had been overtaken by prenatal vitamins and looking at baby clothes online and Ben sending you articles of what you should be eating. 

You were caught in a mental battle with yourself over whether or not you as taken your vitamin when Ryle caught your attention. “So, what’s this new thing with you and Ben? Years of hating one another, down the drain?” 

All three girls raised brows at you and you popped another fry into your mouth, desperate to eat them before your body decided it had lost its appetite. “Not _gone_ ,” you soothed. “We just thought that we should try to get along. For you guys.”

“Shut up, we all know _that’s_ not true.” Rylie laughed. “We’ve been trying to get you guys to do that for four years and it’s never worked. Now, all of a sudden, you decide to try and be friends?”

“We’re very stubborn people,” you argued. “We never tried because you guys pushed it so hard. After Mark’s birthday, I think we’ve come to some sort of agreement.”

Sarah’s eyes searched your face for some sort of ulterior motive, but you only furrowed your brows at her in faux-confused challenge. Finally, she shrugged. “Well, I think it’s about time.” She leaned further back into her chair, sipping her mimosa.

“Thank you, Sarah.” You rolled your eyes. Turning your attention to Rylie and Jessie, you raised a brow. “I thought you guys would be a little more enthused about this, honestly.”

“Don’t get us wrong, Y/N,” Jessie began, looking to Rylie for backup. “We’re thrilled that you and Ben are finally trying to get along.”

“I just think it feels a little...sudden. That’s all.” Rylie shrugged. “Three weeks ago, you had no interest in becoming friends with Ben.”

“Three weeks ago, I was still embarrassed that I slept with him.” 

It wasn’t a total lie. Your friends didn’t need to know that a little over three weeks ago, you didn’t know you were pregnant. You and Ben had agreed to keep that under wraps. For the moment.

“Why were you embarrassed? Ben’s totally hot,” Rylie cried. 

You all laughed, trying to keep her quiet as the other patrons in the restaurant looked at your table. “I’m telling Harry you said that.”

Finally, the attention was off of you, and you let out a near silent sigh of relief. Until you ate another fry and your body rejected it. One thing at a time.

Across town, the guys all sat in Rylie’s living room, beers in hand and feet kicked up on the coffee table, and Ben was getting nearly the exact same lecture. “We’re trying to get along.” He shrugged, sipping his beer.

Smith’s face twisted in confusion. “Why?”

“Not that we’re complaining,” Harry interjected, taking a swig from his beer bottle. “It just feels—” his best friend paused, searching for the proper words.

“It just kind of feels like you’re trying to use Y/N,” Mark spoke, looking nervously at his friend.

Ben frowned. “Who’s to say _I’m_ using _her_? She could be using me.”

Smith scoffed. “Yeah, right.”

Ben laughed incredulously, looking to his friend. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that Y/N is...not one of those girls. She won’t just sleep with you because she’s horny,” Mark defended.

“Well, that’s not entirely true and we all know that, because she definitely _did_ sleep with me just because she was horny,” Ben scoffed.

“Can we stop talking about Y/N being horny?” Smith laughed. “The point is that she’s not necessarily a sort-of-friends with benefits kind of girl. You guys slept together once and _now_ you’re trying to be her friend? It just feels weird, that’s all.”

Ben rolled his eyes, taking another sip of his beer. “I know that. And for the record, no one is using anyone else. Y/N and I, we’re just trying to become friends. That’s it. There is literally nothing else to it.” A complete and total lie.

The guys didn’t push it any further.

That night, you were in your apartment alone, searching through your fridge for something to eat that didn’t make you sick when your phone began to ring. You frowned in confusion at the sight of Ben’s name. You and Ben rarely texted, even after finding out you were pregnant, and you could only recall once that you’d talked on the phone. Assuming it was an emergency, you answered the phone. “Ben?”

“Did they ambush you today?” He asked.

You laughed a little in surprise, pushing around the food items in your fridge. “What?”

“Our friends,” he murmured facetiously. Your smile stayed fixed and you rolled your eyes. “The guys have taken notice of our quote-unquote friendship. It felt like a mini-intervention.”

You hummed knowingly. “Ah, _that_. Now that you mention it, yeah. It did kind of feel like an ambush.”

“I fear it may have been a double intervention.” Despite the situation, you both laughed. Laughing with Ben was not something you’d done a lot in your years of knowing one another, and now that you knew what it was like, you felt as though you’d been cheated out of something.

The conversation lulled for a moment before Ben sighed. “I’m glad we’re getting along.”

You stood up straight, a smile playing on your lips. “Me too. This is going to be an unbearable few months if we can’t figure out how to keep it this way.”

“I meant in general, too.” The admission was shy but it didn’t sound it, Ben’s gravelly voice hiding his vulnerability. “I just mean...I think we could be really good friends. And I’m glad that we’re finally being friendly with one another.”

You paused, pondering his words, before finally admitting, “Yeah. Me too.”

“I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

You scoffed, lips pulling into a smirk. Giving up on your fridge, you closed the door. “What’re you doing right now?”

“Why, do you need something?” He asked worriedly.

You grinned, shaking your head. “No. Not really. I’m just bored and you’re already on the line.” You felt shy suddenly, so you laughed softly. “I just figure, we’re going to be talking a lot for the rest of our lives. We might as well start to get used to it.”

“That we are,” he conceded.

“God, you’re such a dork.”

“You’ve missed out on a lot of years of me being dorky, so you’re getting it tenfold now,” he threatened, but you heard the smile in his voice.

“That’s fine. Our friends are not near dorky enough. I’m missing a lot of dorky energy in my life.” You grinned.

“I have _been_ saying that!”

Another lull. You sighed, staring at the bottle of prenatal vitamins on the counter and pursing your lips. “This still doesn’t feel real,” you breathed, tapping your nails on the countertop.

“I know,” he agreed. “Feels more like I’m watching a movie than actually living my life.”

“I don’t feel like a mom,” you admitted. Insecurity. It had almost eaten you alive since you had found out. “I’m just not a mom-type-person.”

Ben chuckled. “I think you are. You take care of everyone. You just can’t see that.” You thought for a moment, silent, and Ben said, “I think you’re going to be a great mum.”

A smile pulled at your lips. “Yeah?”

“Without a doubt.”

You didn’t say it, but you thought Ben would be a great father.

Later that night, after you’d hung up, when Ben was crawling into bed, you texted him a photo. In your neat scrawl, on a lined piece of paper, was a list. The list you had finished while on the phone, with one extra point right at the bottom.

_**The Pregnancy Plan  
1\. Y/N and Ben have full autonomy.  
2\. Ben and Y/N will execute proper communication.  
3\. Privacy is a priority.  
4\. Ben cannot say Y/N is “carrying his child.”  
5\. Ben will go to every appointment.  
6\. Y/N and Ben will get along.  
7\. Ben will continue to be dork.** _

Ben grinned. He was sure he could do that.


	3. Almost Yearning.

“Good news first or bad news?”

The question took Ben off guard. He did a double-take to look at you, brows knitting together in concern. “There’s bad news?”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your legs and adjusting your grip around your drink. It was unusually cold for mid-October, but Ben had insisted on dropping off some tea for you at work. Dropping off tea, as one could have predicted, resulted in you sitting in the park across the street from your building. A chill ran down your spine and Ben, nearly undetected by you, scooted a little closer. “Are you cold?”

“Just answer the question,” you pushed.

“Fine. Bad news first,” he decided, sipping his coffee and looking over to you.

“I’m getting fat,” you announced.

Ben laughed incredulously and loudly, shaking his head and looking away, watching the people on the green of the park. “You are _not_ getting fat.”

“I am. I put on my favorite shirt this morning and I could barely even button it. It’s getting too small.” You sighed, looking over at him.

“Well, that’s a good thing. It means the baby is growing,” he raised a brow and turned back to you. “Right?” 

“Sure, if you want to think about it like that,” you grumbled.

Ben had dealt with your mood swings, increasingly severe, and had handled them without complaining. You had to hand it to him for that, at least. Dutifully, he took your annoyance, your crying, and your true, red anger in stride. You and Ben had officially become friends. Facebook official and everything. He brought you tea for lunch when you lost your appetite, sent you pictures of Frankie when you cried (which had been happening a little too often for your taste), and made you laugh.

If Ben was this attentive to you, you couldn’t imagine what he’d be like during a pregnancy with someone he was in love with. The thought almost made you yearn for him. 

Almost.

“And the good news?” He asked, leaning back on the bench. 

As though you had forgotten there was good news at all, your face broke into a large grin. You turned to look at him. “My appetite is starting to come back!” You exclaimed, sipping your tea.

Ben offered an excited hum, sitting up a little straighter. “Hey, that’s great! Also, your third month is supposed to be the end of morning sickness, for the most part, so you’ve only got a couple more weeks of that.” He grinned. “Something to look forward to.”

Ben had taken up independent research. At this point, he was more knowledgeable about your pregnancy than you were. Most of your information came from Ben, who loved to spout off the facts he’d learned to you. He was always pointing out milestones or giving you something to look forward to. Most nights were filled with phone calls (“Hey, can I eat this?” or “Where do we stand on caffeine? I need a coffee” or “When is the next appointment?”). You had begun to rely on Ben more than Google. He was attentive. You were almost yearning.

“Ten weeks today,” you reminded softly, gazing at the patrons in the park. You smiled softly at a little dog who looked a bit like Frankie, whom you had yet to meet in person. “The first trimester is almost over.” 

You had both been counting down the days but hadn’t verbalized your fear to the other. After twelve weeks, you were safe. As safe as you could be. Ben would never admit he went to bed every night with a knot in his stomach, fearing a midnight call from you. But now you only had to make it two more weeks, and then you were in the clear. Ben had been counting down the days. So had you.

“Thank god,” Ben breathed, his breath visible in the cold air.

You snorted, turning to look at him. “Tell me about it.”

You admired him for a moment. His pale cheeks flushed in the cold but his green eyes seemed brighter under the orange leaves. You had never seen a man pull off a scarf so well, though you weren’t sure you would tell him that. You would hate for his head to get big, so you settle on silently admiring him.

“I’m just ready,” he admitted.

“For the baby?” You startled, turning to get a better look at him.

“God, no. Not even close.” He laughed, reaching into his jacket pocket but coming back empty-handed. “But for it to be real.”

“It’s real now,” you frowned.

The two of you shared a knowing look. “You know what I mean.” He said. You didn’t answer. Instead, you sat back against the bench with a content sigh. “I’m trying to quit smoking.”

You grinned, nudging him with your elbow. “That’s good. Having fun yet?”

He scoffed, finishing his coffee. “Tons.” He checked his watch and sighed. “Your lunch ends in five minutes. You’d better get back.”

You both stood, listening to the traffic and the barking and the crackling of the leaves, and Ben grabbed your purse, holding it patiently as you adjusted your skirt. Even though Ben’s car was parked a few feet down and on the opposite side of the road, he walked you to the door of your building.

Handing you your purse, he nudged you to the doorway. “I’m picking you up at 9:30 _sharp_ tomorrow.” He reminded. “On the dot. I’d threaten to go without you, but…you know.” 

You grinned at him. “Nine-thirty on the dot. I will be ready.”

“I’m serious, Y/N. It’s the ultrasound tomorrow.” He gave you his best reprimanding look.

You rolled your eyes, pushing him toward the crosswalk gently. “I’m well aware. I’ll be ready, okay?” He nodded, beginning to walk away before you called out his name. “You’re really going to stop smoking?”

He smiled cheekily at you. “I figure one of us has to.” 

“Ha ha,” you deadpanned, a smile mirroring his. “That’s really special, Ben. Thank you.”

He flushed, sticking his hands in his pockets. “It’s nothing. I’ll see you in the morning.”

You waved him off and turned on your heel, retreating into the warmth of your building. You stopped for a second, debating on whether or not to look back at Ben. When you turned back, he was still standing there. He waved his hand playfully at you, urging you inside further and you grinned, obliging him. 

Maybe you were yearning. But only a little bit.

***

Doctor Clare watched you and Ben carefully.

You both pretended you didn’t notice, but her eyes bounced between you, Ben with your purse in his hands, and you, your shirt pulled up, both of you chattering excitedly, sometimes involving her but often filling the silence just between the two of you.

“We’ve been talking about this for weeks,” Ben informed her, looking down at you.

“Weeks. Ben has been so excited that he threatened to come without me if I was late getting ready this morning.”

That made her laugh. She pulled on a pair of gloves. “It’s very exciting, especially for new parents. Neither of you has children, correct?”

“Not as far as I know,” you quipped. Ben rolled his eyes but smiled fondly.

Doctor Clare saw it.

She laughed. “Then this will be fun for all of us.”

After she put the gel on your stomach and you complained to Ben about it (who listens without getting annoyed, or at least without showing it), you watched the screen carefully.

And then you heard it. She pressed the ultrasound transducer against your skin, a few inches below your belly button.

“There it is,” the doctor cooed, looking up at the screen. 

“Oh, my god,” Ben breathed, his brows furrowing together in awe. You couldn’t say anything, your mind whirring a million miles a minute. You took a shaky breath. “Y/N.”

Silently, you reached out and took Ben’s hand, the familiar burn of tears forming behind your eyes. Doctor Clare reached up a hand toward the screen, one gloved finger pointing at a little blob, something that looked vaguely fetus-shaped if you _really_ thought about it. “And that’s what they look like.”

“He looks like you,” you deflected, your voice watery. Ben only laughed, covering your hand with both of his. 

You had spent the last seven weeks trying to live your life as normal. You were not born to be a mother, you were sure of that. You killed cacti, for god’s sake. But as you stared at the screen, your mind was so muddled that you could only conjure up one image. That blurry photo of you and a baby with your hair and Ben’s eyes. When you looked up to Ben, you saw tears in his eyes, too. And you saw him in that photo, a little less fuzzy than the first time you had imagined it. You were okay with that.

“You’re a mum,” Ben said quietly, his cheek pressed against the exam table, inches from your face. He turned to look at you. “Do you feel it?” You closed your eyes, tears running down your cheeks as you nodded. He reached for your hand, pulling it up to his face and pressing it against his lips. Not kissing it, but holding it close. Steadying.

“It’s a girl.” Ben declared, making your eyes open. “I’m calling it now.”

Sniffling slightly, you rolled your eyes. “Yeah, right. I think I’d know my son if I saw him. And he’s right there.”

Ben grinned down at you. “It’s a bet.”

You both looked down at Doctor Clare, who smiled softly. “Well, you’ve got a few weeks until you find that out, but when the time comes, I’d be happy to confirm that, if you’d like.”

“Yeah, but...you know, in your professional opinion, what do you think it is?” Ben asked.

You laughed, eyes moving back to the screen. “Ben, it’s not even a fetus yet. It’s just a...you know.”

He rolled his eyes. “And here I thought I was the one doing all the research,” He teased, raising a brow. “It’s an embryo. I’m just saying, you know, if you wanted to guess…” He trailed off, looking to Doctor Clare again. You giggled.

“I really can’t make bets,” she laughed, looking knowingly at Ben. “But it looks healthy, if that means anything.”

“Off the record,” you finally indulged Ben. “For fun.”

She smiled smally, turning to look at the screen. After a moment, she said, “I’ll say girl.”

Ben turned triumphantly to you. “The doctor’s on my side.”

“I hope you’re both prepared to eat your words,” you scoffed.

Ben looked down at you, your eyes a little bright because of your tears, he felt a heavy wave of adoration. He looked back to the screen and saw it, his baby. Your baby. He felt another resurgence of his fondness.

Doctor Clare watched the two of you furtively. Somehow, she saw something neither of you did.

On the ride home, you had finally caught up with your feelings. Your tears were wiped away and replaced with uninhibited elation. Ben listened to your babbling patiently, only nodding along and chuckling at your excitement, though his own anticipation weighed heavy in his chest. The mood swings had been kept to a minimum, and it was a good day for the two of you. All sweet moments. These were his favorite days.

“I mean, it was like a real person! A person without a face, but still.” You exclaimed, bouncing excitedly in your seat. Ben laughed, dutifully paying attention to the car in front of him. “I can’t think of an event more deserving of celebratory McDonald’s.” You grinned.

“I thought you hated McDonald's.” Despite his words, he changed lanes, keeping an eye out for a McDonald’s he knew was approaching.

You hummed, looking out the window. “I do. But you told me I was supposed to start craving things and I am _definitely <.em> craving a cheeseburger. And a milkshake.”_

_Ben smiled, turning into the parking lot and listening to you chatter. “Just a cheeseburger and a milkshake?”_

_“Unless you want to split fries. But only if you want to,” you bit your thumbnail as Ben pulled into the drive-through._

_He refused to let you pay and even got you your own order of fries, which was a silly reason for your heart to beat faster, but you allowed yourself to indulge in the fantasy. Especially when he turned to you, a pensive look on his face. “I want you to meet Frankie.”_

_You cooed softly, putting your milkshake in his cup holder. “Really?”_

_“I just think since we’re going to be around each other a lot more often, it’s important that she knows you.”_

_A grin spread across your face. “I would love to meet Frankie.”_

_Ben smiled back, holding his fist out toward you. You pursed your lips to keep yourself from laughing, looking at his hand before tapping your knuckles against his. He hummed victoriously and you turned your attention out the window._

_***_

_In the same way Ben looked out of place in your apartment, you felt lost in his._

_It was much brighter than you anticipated, light grey walls and big windows and even plants. Ben seemed like the kind of guy who was competent enough to keep plants alive. You were beginning to adore that about him. It was clean and nicely organized; he even had decorations, which was more than you could say for any of the guys you’d dated in the past two years._

_You shook the idea of dating Ben from your head._

_“She’s in the laundry room. You can take a seat if you want, while I go get her,” Ben offered, gesturing toward the couch. You sat and Ben disappeared further into the apartment. You looked at the photos on the wall above the couch, a few framed prints. Some of his family, a few with other friends, and several with your group of friends; even you popped up on the wall, in group photos, and you felt your heart soar._

_You heard the tapping of little nails on the hardwood floor and you grinned, turning around just in time to see Frankie bolt into the living room, Ben following behind. She hopped on the couch, sniffing you excitedly as you giggled. Ben smiled smally, sitting beside you and watching you interact with his dog._

_Frankie took an immediate liking to you, curling up in your lap as you spoke to Ben, your hand stroking her fur slowly. “You’ve got pictures of me on your wall,” you teased, turn your head slightly to glance at the photos behind you._

_“Of course, I do,” he chuckled, looking at the pictures. “We’re friends.”_

_You laughed, furrowing your brows and giving him a knowing look. “I think we both established that we weren’t friends.” Ben looked at you, raising a brow in silent question. You rolled your eyes. “Ben, we hated each other.”_

_He frowned. “I never hated you.”_

_“Yeah, okay.” You laughed, looking down at Frankie._

_“I didn’t!” He pushed, laughing incredulously. “I’ve always liked you. You just never liked me,” he shrugged. His eyes bounced between you and Frankie like he was afraid to look you in the eyes, but you didn’t point it out. Weeks ago, you would have said something just to embarrass him, but you had begun to care for Ben and the way he felt, so you left it alone._

_You looked at him, brow pulled low. “Ben, we torture one another. It’s like, our thing.”_

_He smiled at you, resting his elbow on the back of the couch and propping his head in his hand. “I was always teasing you. I never realized you were taking it to heart.”_

_You feel a heady sense of melancholy, mirroring his posture. “Ben…”_

_“Hey, lose the pout, waterworks,” he teases. “I get it. We got off on the wrong foot and we never cleared that up. I thought joking around was us getting along. I just never realized you weren’t joking.”_

_“No, you didn’t,” you gaped._

_And then Ben giggled. Your heart rate spiked and you didn’t bother hiding the fondness in your expression. “I did. I didn’t realize until, like, a year ago that it wasn’t like that for you, and that’s only because Harry told me,” his tone was light but it did nothing to clear your conscience._

_“ _Ben_! You just let me be a bitch to you?” You asked, voice tinged in disbelief. Frankie huffed in your lap, annoyed by your inattention. You look down at her for only a moment before looking back to Ben._

_“You weren’t a bitch.”_

_“I was! I still am! And you just took it lying down.” Ben only shrugged, looking back to the pictures. “Ben, I...am so sorry. God, I’m sorry.”_

_“It’s okay, Y/N. I never took any of it personally.” He assured._

_You looked at him, silence heavy between the two of you as you tried to gather your thoughts. How had you spent so long—years—hating Ben for no reason? How could you not have seen it? You knew, even when you could scarcely stand him, that he was a good guy. You had been delusional to believe that he had a personal vendetta against you. Now, you reached across the couch for him._

_“You’re a good guy, Ben.” It was all you could say._

_He smiled sweetly. “Thanks. I think so too.”_

_It was your turn to laugh, nudging him with your foot. “I really am sorry.” He rolled his eyes, grabbing your ankle and pulling it into his lap. Frankie whined at the disruption of her resting place but you laughed, trying to pull your foot back. “So, you’ve always liked me, huh?”_

_Ben smiled knowingly, raising a brow. “What about it?”_

_“Be honest: did you get me pregnant on purpose?” You could barely get through the question without breaking down into laughter and Ben began to giggle too, letting go of your foot to hit you with a throw pillow. Frankie, annoyed by your rowdiness, hopped off the couch with another huff before disappearing into the kitchen. Still laughing, you pushed Ben’s shoulder with your socked foot. “Hey. Got any hot Cheetos?”_

_Ben’s face scrunched in thought. “I doubt it. But I think I may have some Takis.”_

_Your nose wrinkled in distaste. “Ben, that’s fucking disgusting.” And then, after a moment, “Where are they?”_

_He laughed, standing from the couch and motioning for you to follow him to the kitchen. “Mark left them here a few weeks ago and I just haven’t gotten rid of them,” he explained distractedly, crossing the room to the pantry. You looked at his fridge, bare save for a few magnets on the side. You frowned at the sight._

_“I should have known they were his,” you said offhandedly, digging into your purse for the ultrasound prints._

_Ben continued digging around the pantry, frowning as he searched for the half-empty bag of the snack. He finally found them, on the bottom shelf, shoved to the back corner. He stood tall, emitting a noise of triumph, before spinning on his heel. He was about to say something else, but he lost his train of thought the moment he caught sight of you plucking a magnet off his fridge, replacing it with a small black and white photo beneath it._

_He moved to stand beside you, the two of you staring at the ultrasound in silence. Ben’s heart pounded against his chest._

_“I forgot to pull your copy out of my purse that day and I kept forgetting to get this to you. I know we’ll have another one in a couple weeks but, I don’t know, I thought maybe you’d like to have the first one, too.” You rambled, too afraid to turn and look at him._

_“We made that.” He stated plainly._

_You grinned, finally twisting to look at him. “Yeah, we did.”_

_“Baby Y/L/N-Jones.”_

_Your nose wrinkled. “Actually, I’ve kind of been thinking that maybe we don’t hyphenate.”_

_He frowned down at you, handing you the bag of chips. “Why not?”_

_You opened the bag, popping one of the Takis into your mouth and looking back at the ultrasound. “Too long. And, y’know, it really is your baby. It should have it’s father’s last name.”_

_He was surprised at your casualty, raising his brows as he looked at you. “Really?”_

_You smirked up at him. “Don’t look so surprised, Ben.”_

_“I’m—” He paused, imagining a baby with his last name and biting his lip. “Are you sure?”_

_“Maybe I’m a stickler for tradition,” you proposed. He shook his head. “You’re the baby’s dad, Ben. It’s not like you won’t be around.”_

_You could hardly imagine Ben not being around. He had almost driven you crazy with his persistent presence just in the past few weeks. Once the baby was here, you feared you would never be able to get rid of him._

_Upon further thought, it didn’t sound so bad._

_Ben couldn’t contain his glee, throwing an arm around you and reaching into the bag to grab a Taki. You watched his reaction clandestinely._

_His own face scrunched in disgust the moment it hit his tongue. “God, these are terrible.”_

_You laughed loudly, nodding in agreement. “They really are awful. Matt eats these for fun?”_

_Ben laughed boisterously, shaking his head and forcing himself to swallow the chip. “C’mon.” He took the bag from your hand and tossed it on the counter lazily. “Go put your shoes on.” He ordered quickly, disappearing down the hall again. You stood in confusion for a moment before you retreated to the living room, pulling on your sneakers quickly._

_“Ben?”_

_He returned to you in the living room with Frankie on a leash. You watched him in surprise as he grabbed his keys, spinning them around his finger once before he looked at you expectantly._

_Disoriented, you laughed a little. “Where are we going?”_

_As though it was obvious, Ben raised a brow. “To go get you some hot Cheetos. I literally refuse to let you eat anymore Takis.” You grinned._

_You were yearning. Full and strong and honest._


	4. There Are Worse Things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's a masturbation scene in here but it isn't like, mega-graphic or anything. if that makes you uncomfy, be wary!

Ben showed up at your apartment bright and early on a Saturday morning, pounding on your door until you answered with a scowl. “What the hell are you doing here? It’s eight-thirty.”

He grinned, unphased by your distaste as he held up some grocery bags. “Congratulations.”

The autumnal sun shone right in your eyes and your face scrunched up, a hand raising to shield you eyes in annoyance and confusion. “Excuse me?”

“Thirteen weeks today. We’re in the second trimester.” He was practically bouncing and you couldn’t help yourself. A smile began to grow on your lips. “Can you let me inside?”

You rolled your eyes but grinned widely. Wordlessly, you opened the door a little more and Ben bustled inside. He hummed under his breath, finding his way to the kitchen easily. “What is this, exactly?” You asked, closing the door and following him through your apartment.

He set the bags on the counter gently and turned to answer you before looking down at the ground between you. Milo sat, looking patiently between the two of you as if waiting for an explanation. You smiled softly. 

Ben was sufficiently distracted, so instead of pushing your question, you said, “I met Frankie, I guess it’s only fair you meet Milo.” You bent over to pick up the cat, holding him close to your chest and approaching Ben. “Milo, this is Ben. He’s the one who got me pregnant.”

Ben glared at you playfully. “It’s like you want him to hate me.”

You grinned cheekily. “He already does.”

Ben made grabby hands at the cat and you handed him over easily, Milo’s purring vibrating against Ben’s chest as he held him closely. “Hello,” he murmured softly, ignoring you as you began to dig through the bags. You listened to Ben talk to Milo lowly as you looked at the content of the grocery sacks, giggling softly.

In the bags, there was sparkling cider and plastic champagne flutes and little confetti poppers, amongst other things, and you looked to Ben, who still held Milo close but watched you expectantly. You felt your heart flutter in your chest at the thought, Ben’s lips upturned in a smile. “We’re celebrating.” He offered.

“Ben…” you trailed off, your eyes filling with tears.

He set Milo down, crossing the kitchen to throw an arm around you. It was an unfamiliar gesture and yet, you had never felt so comfortable. With an arm around your waist, he teased, “You and your crying. You might never grow out of the nickname ‘waterworks.’”

“Fuck you,” you huffed, voice watery. He just grinned, throwing his other arm around your shoulder and hugging you tightly.

You hugged him back, your eyes closing as you held him tight. “Been there, done that,” he teased, pulling back to look at you. “Happy second trimester. Thanks for carrying my baby.” He whispered teasingly.

“God, _stop_ ,” you begged, wiping your tears away with a laugh. “That’s against the rules.”

Ben didn’t answer, releasing you from his grip and crossing back to open the cider. You watched him from across the counter and you couldn’t help but notice how natural he looked. Months ago, he had looked stiff and uncomfortable in your apartment, but now he bounced around the kitchen easily, humming to music that wasn’t playing and whispering to Milo every few minutes.

There was a deep pull in your chest, an invisible rope tied to Ben trying to drag you closer to him. You clenched your fists as you watched him and pushed that feeling as deep as you could.

You and Ben had been counting down the days to the second trimester. He had been anxiously awaiting the day since the second he knew you were keeping the baby, ready to get to that deadline, this mile mark. It was a small victory, peace of mind. Your countdown had come the day you had first heard the baby’s heartbeat. _Bean_ , as Ben had taken to calling the baby, had truly taken over your lives. They had brought you closer and accentuated the pull in your chest, only making it stronger with every day that passed. 

One week after your celebration, you were in the kitchen on the phone with Ben, as usual. Phone calls had become part of your nightly routine. He called it a check-in, but you both knew what it was. It was a friendship. 

And usually, Ben is good at keeping you calm. But, unusually, he dropped a bomb on you. With your phone pressed to your ear and your heart pounding against your chest, you gaped at Ben’s words. “You _what_?”

“I…” Ben trailed off, trying to gather his thoughts. “I want to tell them.”

You paused, ignoring Milo mewling indignantly and rubbing against your calves. “Can you give me 5 minutes, Milo?” You huffed, holding your phone away from your face.

“Tell Milo I say hi.”

You groaned, overwhelmed with your thoughts and Ben’s request and your cat, trudging away as though he had been scorned. “You need to give me a moment, too,” you breathed.

Ben was silent for only a split second before he was fighting for information, your thoughts struggling to keep up with him. “I just thought, you know, you and I, we’re getting really close. And we’re into the second trimester and you’ll start showing soon and they’re our friends, Y/N. I love this baby and I—” He paused, collecting himself. “I think it’s important that they know.”

Your stomach twisting in anxiety, you closed your eyes to gather your thoughts. Were you prepared to tell your friends? A glance at your calendar made you exhale sharply. Fourteen weeks. You and Ben had agreed to wait until you were in your second trimester to tell your friends. When you had agreed to that, the end of your first trimester had seemed so far away. But now you were here. Fourteen weeks.

You had cherished your time with Ben. In ten weeks, you had gone from barely being able to look at him to ending all your days with a phone call, even if it only lasted five minutes. Ben was your friend. He was your only confidant in your pregnancy, and you liked it that way. You wanted to keep it between you two, even if just for a little while longer.

Finally, you sighed softly, rubbing your forehead. “I don’t know, Ben.”

“It’s a lot,” he acknowledged.

“Yeah.”

He understood your hesitation, which only made your heart soar. “We can wait,” he offered easily.

You pursed your lips and closed your eyes. “No, we should tell them.”

“Not if you’re not ready,” he pushed back.

You groaned. “Don’t be considerate, Ben. My hormones are fucked. Just tell me what to do.”

He laughed and you felt your stomach flip. “Then we’ll tell them.” He decided. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Should I make the reference or do you want to?”

You giggled, shaking your head. “Shut up, you dork.”

You wished for a moment that you could see him because you knew he was smiling, green eyes squinted and wrinkling. “I thought I may as well check.” 

There was a long lull in the conversation, the sound of your voices withdrawing from the phone line and leaving you both with your thoughts. You had been fervently denying your crush on Ben but the longer you kept up with this, the less you were able to control it.

Ben was in the same boat. On the same line, several miles away, he closed his eyes and indulged in the fantasy. There had been a lot of that lately, from both of you. Ben could hear the music playing in the background of the call, a song he knew but couldn’t quite remember, and he thought about the song playing in _his_ kitchen. He thought about you, sitting on the counter beside the sink, humming along. He thought about you, wearing those wool socks you had bought when the two of you were together, and maybe one of his shirts, your bump barely beginning to show. It made his soul ache.

“We’ll tell them Friday, yeah?” He suggested, rapping his knuckles nervously on his counter.

You breathed out, grateful to Ben for making the decision you were dreading. You still felt that familiar panic, cold and heavy and deep in your gut, but you knew he wasn’t going anywhere. It made it seem a little more doable.

“Friday it is.”

And Friday it was. For as long as you had been friends, it had been a tradition. The second Friday of every month was saved for dinner and drinks. Before you sat down, as you followed your friends to the table, Ben grabbed your bicep gently, keeping you back from the group slightly. “How do you feel?”

You laughed nervously, looking away from him. Instead of giving him a real answer, you joked, “Fat.”

He frowned, both of his hands coming up to cup your cheeks. “Hey, I’m serious.”

You ignored the pounding of your heart at the contact, looking at him. “So am I. I need to start looking at maternity clothes soon.” Ben stayed silent, waiting for you to divulge your fear to him, so you exhaled sharply, closing your eyes. “This is going to change everything.”

“I know. But we’ll be fine. We don’t really have a choice in the matter.” He assured. You laughed softly even though it wasn’t funny, shifting on your feet. “I think they’re going to love this.” He raised a brow. You rolled your eyes.

“We can only hope.”

As you started to walk in the direction your friends had gone, Ben gripped your wrist. “You really don’t look fat.” He cleared his throat and even under the low light, you could see his sudden nervousness. “I think you look beautiful.”

You smiled shyly. “Thank you.”

Was it fair for the guy who got you pregnant to make you feel like a middle schooler? You didn’t think so. When you got to the table, you prayed that your friends didn’t notice the flush on your cheeks, but no one said anything. You tried to put it off for as long as possible, ignoring the pointed, questioning looks Ben shot you as you talked, and after you order, and after you received your food. Around you, your friends chattered excitedly, but you and Ben shared a look across the table, both apprehensive to make the announcement. Your friends, nothing if not astute, looked between the two of you.

“Okay, what’s with the looks?” Rylie finally broke, raising a brow at you.

“What looks?” You asked, picking at your food obliviously.

She rolled her eyes and Smith nudged Ben. “You two have just been weird tonight.”

“Thanks,” Ben deadpanned, turning to look at his friend. “We haven’t been weird.” 

You took a deep breath. “But we do have something to tell you.” 

“Oh, no,” Harry groaned.

“They’re fucking,” Mark exclaimed. “I knew it!”

You laughed incredulously and Ben scoffed. “We are _not_!”

“Then what’s your deal?” Sarah spoke up from beside you.

You inhaled sharply, looking at Ben from across the table. He could see the clear panic in your eyes, so he smiled reassuringly and caught one of your legs between both of his beneath the table, a silent motion of comfort. “Y/N is pregnant.”

There was a long moment as everyone processed Ben’s words, their faces flat of any emotion before they all began speaking at once.

“Since when?”

“Whose is it?”

“Why does _Ben_ know and we didn’t?”

“I _told_ you!”

Then, silence. Understanding. All six of your friends seem to come to the same realization at the same time, eyes darting between you and Ben. You smiled sheepishly and Ben waited for someone to say something, your foot still between both of his.

Smith looked between the two of you, his mouth opening and closing again as he tried to come to terms with his realization. “So...that’s why...you guys are friends now?”

You shrugged. “What else is there to do?”

“So…” Jessie started, brows furrowed. “How far along are you?”

“Today is fifteen weeks,” Ben answered for you, looking at you to ensure you were fine. You smiled smally.

“What _I’m_ hearing,” Mark smirked, “Is that we’re getting a baby because of me.”

Your face scrunched in confusion and Ben laughed. Across from you, Rylie turned to him incredulously. “In what world is that even close to what they’re saying?”

“Well, unless they slept together more than once,” a glance at you and Ben confirmed that you hadn’t, “then this baby was conceived because Y/N got smashed at my birthday celebration. So, you’re welcome.”

You laughed loudly. “I don’t think that’s how that works,” Harry laughed, shaking his head at Mark.

You and Ben shared a look and your anxiety was soothed, a small smile on your face. He had that effect on you, you had noticed. Ben made you feel better.

“Now that that’s settled,” Ben sighed, gesturing toward you. “Someone tell Y/N she doesn’t look fat.”

You could do this.

After dinner, you decline your friends’ requests to ask more questions, climbing into Ben’s car and insisting that you would talk to them the following day. Ben only waved to them, getting in with you and breathing out in relief. “We did it.”

As though you couldn’t believe it either, you laughed softly. “Yeah, we did.”

“How do you feel?” He asked, turning the radio down low and pulling out of the parking lot. 

In the mirror, you could see your friends gawking at the car as it pulled away. You smiled smally. “Exhausted.”

Ben looked over at you, momentarily distracted before moving his gaze back to the road. “I’m glad we told them,” he admitted, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel slightly.

You stared at his profile, your brain working in overtime. “I’m glad it was you.” You whispered. It was a sentiment you both felt but neither of you had shared. “I mean, if it was going to be any of our friends—”

“I’m glad it wasn’t Smith.” 

You giggled, looking out the windshield. “For everyone’s sake.”

Ben chuckled, glancing over at you. With a surge of confidence, he reached over the center console and grabbed your hand. “I’m glad it was me, too.” He offered. “Really glad.”

You bit your lip, your stomach turning as he pulled over to let you out in front of your building. “Well, thanks for the ride.”

As you reached for the handle, Ben squeezed your hand. “Hey, what are you doing tomorrow?”

“Nothing, why?”

“Let’s go get you some new clothes,” he offered.

“Oh, Ben. You don’t have to, I’ll get Sarah to go with me,” you said softly, still holding his hand. Your heart began to pound as a light flush spread up his neck.

“I want to go with you,” he admitted shyly, green eyes searching your face for an answer.

Your heart soared. With your eyes still on his face, you nodded slowly. Thick silence settled in the car as you both stared at one another. Ben feared that you could hear his heart beating and he leaned over the console, just a bit, just enough to get a few inches closer to you.

Were you about to let Ben kiss you? There were much worse things, you thought. You and Ben were getting close, but not so close that a kiss could ruin something. Just far enough apart that a kiss could make things different, in a good way. In a relationship way. A sick piece of your mind cackles because, in a weird way, isn’t a baby relationship insurance? At least for a little while?

Just as your eyes began to flutter closed, you felt something so unfamiliar that it made you jolt, like a flutter deep in your core, so faint you couldn’t be sure it had even happened. Your eyes shot open, looking down at your stomach. “Ben.”

“Yeah?” He asked softly, biting his lip.

“I think he’s moving.”

Ben wanted to roll his eyes at your insistence of the baby’s gender but he could barely think, looking at you in awe. “He is?” You nodded, your hands holding your stomach. Ben knew he wouldn’t be able to feel it, but one of his hands still covered yours. “He’s early. Only by a week, but he’s early.”

You smiled, closing your eyes and basking in the moment. “Overachiever,” you breathed, lips upturned. “You said ‘he,’” you pointed out smugly.

Ben rolled his eyes, grabbing your hand and kissing your knuckles. “Caught up in the moment,” he grinned. “I’ll pick you up at ten o’clock.”

“Sharp?” You teased. He smiled over at you.

“On the dot.”

***

You woke up a little too early for your liking from a dream that leaves you heaving, your breathing heavy and an unbearable pressure in your stomach. Your heart was racing, the duvet on your bed suffocating you as you search for your phone.

Eight o’clock. It wasn’t ideal, especially since you were supposed to be able to sleep in a little bit until Ben came to pick you up. Your thighs rubbed together in search of some relief, a frustrated, throaty groan echoing throughout your bedroom.

When you decide to put yourself out of your misery, you could only think of one thing: Ben.

You had a dream, something that was partly flashbacks of what you could remember of the night you’d already spent together and partly just your imagination running wild. You could practically feel his calloused hands, holding your waist firmly as you rolled against him. You could almost hear his sounds again, hot against your ear, stoking the fire in your core.

When you were finished, your chest heaving and Ben’s name still on the tip of your tongue, you could almost see his face. It was nearly enough to keep you in bed. 

Instead, you dragged yourself out of your bedroom, stomping around the apartment as Milo watched you curiously. You knew your sex drive was supposed to return in your second trimester, but you didn’t realize it was going to hit full-force, all at once. And you definitely didn’t know it was going to be so relentless, leaving you insatiable. The thought alone of seeing Ben again made your stomach turn.

It was mid-November and biting cold, which made dressing, something that was only becoming increasingly difficult, easy. Ben picked you up ten minutes early and grinned at the sight of your sweatshirt. “Y’look cozy,” he smiled, waiting for you to buckle your seatbelt before pulling out onto the road.

“Is that a nice way to say that I look homeless?”

He giggled, shaking his head. “No, cute. I’m glad you’re keeping my baby warm.”

You feel a rush of fondness so intense that if you weren’t buckled in, you may have fallen over. You cheeks warmed, fingers twisting in your sweatshirt as you smiled back at him. “Worry not, we’re plenty warm.” You pursed your lips to hide your delight. “Don’t try to claim this baby as yours. He’s mine, too.” You teased.

Adoring and soft, he glanced over at you as he exited onto the freeway. “Ours.”

You sunk in your seat, a grin spreading over your face. “Yeah.”

Ben let you control the radio and pick where you went for breakfast, not complaining even when you picked Panera, unaware that he refused to eat there. He took you to a department store you’d never been to before (“ _It’s nice! I buy my shoes there_.”) and insisted on pushing a cart around, only succeeding in making you laugh as he dragged you through the store. 

You had been feeling low, an uncomfortable mixture of your hormones and the insecurity you had been feeling as the bump grew, but Ben somehow always found a way to take your mind off your worries. He soothed you in a way no one had ever been able to before, seemingly without noticing, and it was more clear than it had ever been as you spent the morning together. The radio and the breakfast and the shopping, it had made impossible to deny.

Things felt different. It was a shift you had almost expected and one that you had almost hoped for. It felt just as good as you had hoped. Though Ben was always accommodating for you, today he doted on you. It was undeniably domestic, the way he offered you the rest of his bagel (a plain bagel, because he had stopped ordering everything bagels) when you ate your breakfast quickly and how he put his keys in your purse and how he picked out clothes he thought you would like.

He was adorable. And so incredibly sexy, without even trying, that it made you feel faint. Spending time with Ben was almost becoming painful, not just because of the way he made your heart race, but also because you couldn’t even look at him without feeling your stomach turn in excitement.  
You were just beginning to flip through a rack of maternity clothes when you heard Ben giggling behind you. You tried to fight the smile overtaking you lips when his laughter only got louder. “Y/N,” he wheezed, his laughter loud.

You turned around to look at him, a hanger in his hand and his body bent, laughter boisterous and heavy. Dark blue cotton with a bright orange basketball right where your belly would hit. You cringed at the sight, laughing quietly along with Ben. “That’s terrible.”

“Please,” he howled, face red from laughter. _Please_ buy this.”

“I thought you said you didn’t hate me,” you teased, reaching out and testing the material between your fingers. You winced again at the scratchy polyester, giggling as Ben began to catch his breath.

“I love it.”

“I hate it,” you laughed, rolling your eyes and spinning around. 

Ben finally found his composure, joining you to search through the rack as he hummed lowly. “Hey,” he spoke up. You turned to look at him, another hanger in his hand as he pushed it toward you. Where just moments ago he had been laughing loudly and bouncing around, he now looked at you shyly. “You should try this on.”

You smiled, looking at the shirt before glancing back up at him. “This is pretty,” you agreed.

“I think you would look nice in it.” He bit his lip, watching your reaction carefully.

You flushed, grinning and looking away from him. “Don’t do that,” you chuckled, putting the shirt in the cart before flipping through the clothes again.

“Do what?”

“Don’t say nice things to me, because my hormones are fucked up, and I might fall in love with you.”

Was it too late for that? You internally winced. Love was a strong word. For now, you were hopelessly pining for Ben. But he felt his heart pound against his chest, a disbelieving smile overtaking his lips. Wasn’t that the ultimate goal? Getting you to fall in love with him and raising your child together? “Is it that easy?” He teased and, without thinking, he said, “There are worse things.”

You stared at him, unaware how he got so close without you noticing. Your breath hitched in your throat, fingers tightening around the clothes in front of you. “Are there?” You asked softly.

“I think so,” he breathed. One of his arms wrapped around your waist, the other cupping your face as he pulled you into him, your fingers releasing the hanging shirts and resting flat against his chest. You released a tremulous breath, eyes fluttering closed as his nose brushed yours.

You thought so too.

Ben’s lips pressed against yours lightly, tentatively. Your hands slid from his chest to his jaw, holding him in place as he kissed you. It didn’t matter that you were in the middle of a department store and that you could hear children crying and premature holiday music. You were with Ben, and that was what mattered.


	5. I Like When You're Here.

A usually calm Ben paced around the exam room, your purse in his hands. You rolled your eyes, your legs swinging as you sat on the edge of the exam table, a hand reaching out for him. “If you’re already standing, can you bring me my purse?”

Silently, he crossed the room and handed it to you, watching you carefully as you began to dig around in it. 

“Why are you freaking out?” And then, under your breath, you huffed, “What the fuck? I thought I put some snacks in here.”

Ben finally stilled, looking at you in shock. “How are you _not_ freaking out?” You looked up at him and raised a brow, a silent question, before you began searching through your bag again. “We’ve been talking about this _for months_.”

You hated to see him so worked up but he was so _cute_ when he was flustered. His hair was mussed, his hands restlessly running through it every few minutes and he looked at you with wide eyes. The intensity with which he glanced at you nearly made your stomach turn.

At the bottom of your purse, your fingers brushed the sandwich bag you had thrown in and you exclaimed in excitement before sighing, “I mean, yeah, I’m excited, but I’m mostly just hungry,” you laughed, opening the bag and holding it out to Ben in offering.

He looked into the bag, his nose wrinkling in confusion. “Jesus, Y/N, what is that?”

You pursed your lips and looked into the bag yourself as you tried to recall what you had thrown into it. “Uh...pretzels, fruit snacks, chocolate chips. Cheetos. Maybe some raisins. I think I may have tossed in some of those dried apple things but I can’t see any.”

He finally chuffed a small laugh, shaking his head. “At least you’re eating.”

“Oh, _trust me_ , I’m eating.” You stuck your hand into the bag, pulling out some fruit snacks and a pretzel. “I thought I was getting fat two months ago. Now look at me.”

He rolled his eyes, taking your purse back and crossing the room to finally drop into one of the chairs, sighing heavily. “I still think you look good,” he breathed, his foot tapping on the tile floor. 

Ignoring the fluttering of your heart, you sighed softly. “Ben, _relax_. I’m begging you.”

“I’m _trying_ —”

He was cut off by a quick rap on the door and the quiet creaking of the hinges. Doctor Clare poked her head in, a bright smile overtaking her face. “Hi, guys!”

“Hey!” Ben exclaimed loudly. You chuckled softly, shooting him a look.

“Hi, Doctor Clare,” you greeted easily, popping a pretzel into your mouth. She smiled and looked between you and Ben, one of her brows raising. “Ben’s a little too excited to find out the sex,” you sighed playfully. You and Ben looked at one another, a lingering glance that made the doctor smirk minutely.

Things had been different—not awkward, but different—since you kissed. It was almost as though Ben had been tiptoeing around you and the question you both wanted to ask. _What was happening?_

A piece of you almost wished you had never kissed him. You missed Ben. He still sat, just feet away from you, but it wasn’t the same as it had been. In the past four months, somehow, Ben had become your best friend. Even Sarah had noticed, complaining to both of you for ‘cutting her out’ ( _“Y/N is_ my _best friend, Ben. You can’t steal her from me just because you put a baby in her.”_ ). Now, your nightly phone calls were usually limited to around five minutes, just Ben calling to ensure you were comfortable, or sufficiently stocked on food, to make sure you didn’t need anything. And then it was over.

There hadn’t been any midday lunches or dropping by snacks because he thought you wanted them or sending each other silly texts to distract yourselves from work. Only adding to your upset, Ben acted like everything was fine. He still smiled at you the same way he always did and refused to act cold. He was still Ben, sweet and caring, just from a distance. You had been driving yourself crazy trying to think of a way to bring up the kiss without pushing him further away. If you were this upset about it after only two weeks, you couldn’t imagine the way you would feel after months of him acting this way.

“Ah! Then let’s jump right into it, yeah?” She suggested, sitting at her stool. 

Hesitantly, like he couldn’t decide whether or not he should, Ben moved his chair closer to you. You smiled reassuringly at him, offering him the bag again silently. Too nervous to make fun of your mismatched snack bag, he stuck his hand in and studied what he pulled out. Several cheetos, a fruit snack, and a few chocolate chips rested in his hand.

“That’s a good pull,” you affirmed, turning to look at him, a smile still on your face. Finally, Ben cracked a smile and popped a chocolate chip into his mouth. Your grin turned triumphant and you began eating again yourself, turning back to the doctor.

You flipped your shirt up, smiling at her as she began to apply the gel to your stomach, answering the few questions she asked casually. Ben had gotten skilled in the past few years at hiding the awe in his eyes, always for you, but he was sure he was more starry-eyed than ever as he watched you. He had always thought you were beautiful, it was that simple. But pregnancy looked good on you. Suited you perfectly. You practically glowed, no matter where you went. Especially now that your mood swings had passed, you were more beautiful than he had ever seen you, carrying his child, your bump more pronounced with every day that passed.

Of course, this wasn’t something Ben could tell you. Despite the fact that you had gotten into more than one argument about that fact that he seemed not to care at all about the fourth rule ( _“Ben is not allowed to say Y/N is ‘carrying his child,’”_ which was rule you were particularly passionate about), there was a lot on the line in his eyes. Unable to see the adverse effects this was having on your friendship, Ben decided that distance was safe. Ben valued you more than you realized, and the thought of the potential romance ending and leaving the two of you on worse terms than you started on almost made Ben sick.

He wouldn’t risk it. He would bite his tongue, swallow the words he desperately wanted to say to you, and keep his distance. 

“Alright, are you guys ready?” Doctor Clare asked, grabbing the transducer and pressing it into your skin. You turned to Ben with a sweet smile, your nose scrunching in excitement as you reached for his hand. Ben immediately accepted, holding one of your hands in both of his, both of you watching the screen closely. 

She was silent as she moved around and you held your breath, squeezing Ben’s hand tightly. Finally, she hummed and, still looking at the screen, she said, “What did we say, Ben? Girl?”

“Yes,” he breathed. One glance at him showed you that he already had tears in his eyes. You held his hand a little tighter.

“I think it’s time for us to eat our words.” One of her hands raised, a finger pointing at the screen. “See that?” You couldn’t, but you already knew what she was saying.

“It’s a boy?” 

She beamed, turning around you look at you. “It’s a boy,” she confirmed.

Ben leant forward, resting his head on the edge of the exam table, sniffling quietly. You smiled, your heart racing as you nudged him. “Hey, waterworks,” you teased.

Ben offered a watery laugh, raising his head to look at you. His eyes brimmed with tears and he turned back to the screen, his lips upturned in a small smile. “A boy,” he whispered, his green eyes gleaming with unshed tears. You nodded, your head tilted in sympathy.

“We’re having a boy,” you repeated, your own tears building in your eyes. You looked back to the screen and back to Doctor Clare, who only glanced at the two of you surreptitiously. For half a second, you believed that you could see what she had been looking at, but just as soon as you thought you had it, you looked back to Ben, who grinned widely at you, your hand still enveloped in his, and it slipped between your fingers. 

***

Your friends watched you, annoyed, as you held on to the bag of chips, munching happily as you looked back at them. “Can I _help_ you? Christ.” you huffed a laugh, shaking your head and sticking your hand back into the bag.

“We’ve been here for an hour and we still haven’t talked about the appointment.” Jessie glared at you. The three of them sat on your couch across from you and you sunk lower into the loveseat. 

You shrugged, looking back at them petulantly. “Why are you so worried about what’s going on in my uterus?”

Your hand rested on your bump, hidden by an oversized knit sweater, and Sarah groaned loudly, her head falling back with a soft _thump_. “It’s been a week, Y/N. It’s like you’re just trying to torture us now.”

You couldn’t lie and say that you didn’t love to see them squirm; you tried (and failed) to hide your impish grin and a sour skittle flew through the air, bouncing off your chest and landing in your lap. “Just _tell us!_ ” Rylie snapped.

You grunted, tucking your feet under your thighs and popping the skittle in your mouth. “Fine,” you drawled, rolling your eyes and playing with the hem of your sweater. Finally, a small, excited smile began to grow on your lips. “It’s a boy.”

Jessie jumped up, squealing loudly. Sarah grinned, her hands clasped in front of her chest (“I knew it,” she stated triumphantly) and Rylie’s lip jutted out, already standing up to wrap you in her arms. 

You smiled along with your friends, your hand still resting against your bump as they rambled. “Y/N, this is _crazy_! A boy?”

You nodded, laughing incredulously along with her, patting her back as she squeezed you. “I know, it’s unreal. I’m thrilled.” 

She held you at arms length, your other friends watching your interaction. “Is Ben excited?”

You smiled demurely and nodded. “Yeah, he’s been really excited,” you answered vaguely. All three of them stared at you, raised eyebrows and curious looks pointed your way.

“Okay, what’s happening there?” Sarah broke, a brow raised. Rylie let go of you, taking a step back. A united front, the three of them looked at you expectantly, waiting for an explanation. You sighed, looking away and dropping back into your chair, not before picking up the pack of sour skittles from the coffee table. 

“We’ve just been in a weird place,” you admitted, eating another skittle and crossing your legs.

Jessie’s brows furrowed and she sat back on the couch, her attention focused fully on you. “What? Since when?”

“You guys were doing really well,” Sarah frowned. “Like, too well. He was taking my spot.”

You whined, chewing on your lip worriedly and averting eye contact. “Ben was kind of my best friend, for a little bit.” You agreed. “I don’t know, I think we did something stupid.”

“Before or after he got you pregnant?” Rylie teased, lightening the mood. You chuckled lightly, shaking your head. 

“That day after we all went to dinner, Ben and I went shopping,” you revealed, rolling a skittle between your fingers and avoiding carrying on the story. Your friends watched you patiently and you sighed, eating the skittle and looking back at them. “Anyway, we kissed, and I thought it was a good thing, y’know? I’ve really enjoyed spending time with him and I thought that us kissing could have, I don’t know, turned into something. But he’s just been acting really weird and distant and it fucking sucks because I _miss_ him.”

You laughed, rubbing your eyes with the heels of your hands, sighing tiredly. “I miss Ben. It’s not fair that he weasels his way into my life and makes me like him, and then just tries to dip out when we do something dumb.”

Sympathetic eyes watched over you, and Sarah opens her mouth first, looking at you curiously. “Do you...do you have feelings for Ben?”

You chuckled humorlessly. “As ridiculous as it sounds, yeah. I do. And now, he wants virtually nothing to do with me.” The three of them shared a look and your brows knitted together, watching the three of them and their silent conversation. “What? What is that?” You prodded, leaning forward.

“Y/N,” Jessie started tentatively. “You know that Ben, is like, obsessed with you, right?”

You scoffed and ignored the fluttering of your stomach. “If Ben was obsessed with me, he wouldn’t be ignoring me.” You frowned, picking at a stray thread unraveling from your old leggings. 

“I swear to god, you’re so blind.” Sarah laughed, shaking her head and flopping onto the couch.

“Ben has practically been in love with you for like, years, Y/N,” Rylie pushed. “Like, since the day you guys met.”

You looked between your friends, searching their faces for some indication of a joke. “Wait, what?”

“Do you ever wonder why he teases you the way he does?” Sarah raised a brow, looking at you incredulously. “You make him nervous. He doesn’t know how else to act around you.” 

You leaned back in your seat, furrowing your brows as you allowed the information to digest. Had you been blind for so long? You had never even considered that Ben had feelings for you and it definitely hadn’t crossed your mind before you two had become closer. 

You shook your head, working through your thoughts out loud. “When we hooked up…”

“He thought that was a step. It’s why he talked about it so much,” confirmed Rylie.

“He kept asking what you were saying, if you were talking about it or him. Ben has kind of been waiting for you to come around for years,” Sarah continued.

“Oh, fuck.”

The four of you were silent for a moment before you let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking you head and popping another chip into your mouth. What else was there to do? 

Changing the subject, Jessie grinned. “Screw Ben, he doesn’t matter right now. When are we going to have the baby shower?”

“Oh, absolutely not,” you barked a laugh, shaking your head. “No baby shower.”

“I hope you’re joking,” she snapped, glaring in your direction. “You’re going to buy all this baby bullshit on your own?” 

You chortled, dropping a few more skittles in your mouth and nodding. “I’d much rather pay for all my ‘baby bullshit’ than invite a ton of people I barely know to buy me gifts.” You hummed. 

Jessie huffed, rolling her eyes irritably. You continued to laugh, shaking your head softly and shifting in your seat. “As your friend, I demand you allow me to throw you a baby shower,” she pushed.

Rylie stood to answer a call as you began to reply, silent as she made her way into the kitchen, ignoring your arguing. “As a pregnant woman, I demand that you respect my god-given right to deny a baby shower.”

“ _Y/N_!” Jessie cried, her jaw set.

“Jesus, Jess,” Sarah laughed loudly, nudging your friend with her foot. “Why are you so hung up on this baby shower?”

You giggled, watching them interact when Rylie caught your attention from the kitchen. Struggling only slightly, you stood from your seat and slipped out unnoticed, the two of them still quarreling in the living room. You raised a curious brow before she handed you the phone. “It’s Harry.”

You looked at her, confused, but still took the phone from her hands and brought it up to your ear. “Hello, Harold.”

“Hey, Y/N,” he said loudly. You smiled. He always got a little too loud when he got drunk.

“You guys went out drinking, yeah?” You asked, leaning against the counter. 

“Yeah,” he drawled. “Listen, Ben’s, like, super drunk.”

You waited for him to continue, but he stayed silent, so you chuckled softly and carried on the conversation by yourself. “I would expect nothing less from him.”

Rylie watched you silently, her face twisted in just as much confusion as yours must have been. “Yeah…” Voice deep and slow from the alcohol, Harry trailed off and you raised a brow.

“What’s up, Harry?” You pushed, rolling your eyes playfully at Rylie, who giggled softly and leaned against the fridge across from you.

“Right! Right, we tried to take him home, that’s where we are right now, uh…” He spoke. You hummed, urging him to continue. “He lost his keys at the bar, and he won’t stop talking about how he wants to see you. We were wondering if he could just, y’know, stay over at your place and he can go back for his keys tomorrow.”

You sucked in a sharp breath, closing your eyes and rubbing your forehead in thought, though your decision was made the second you knew where Harry was going with his question. “Yeah, bring him here.”

Harry cheered. “Benny, you’re going to Y/N’s!” 

Ben moaned pitifully in the background and you could practically see his face, smooth skin wrinkled and brow furrowed, green eyes closed. “Oh, my god, finally.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “I’ll see you guys soon, okay?”

“Okay,” he lilted. “We love you!”

You smiled. “I love you guys. Be safe.” 

You handed the phone back to Rylie who raised a brow as Harry hung up before she could speak to him again. “What’s going on?” She asked. 

In the background, it sounded as though Jessie and Sarah’s argument had already ended, the two of them giggling loudly. “Ben lost his keys, so they can’t get him into his apartment. They’re going to bring him here.”

She laughed. “What?” She lilted; you shrugged. “He could have stayed at our place. I just think it’s weird they’re bringing him here.”

You pursed your lips, unable to decide if you wanted to disclose what Harry had said, before you finally open your mouth. “Harry said he had been talking about me. You know how they get when they’re drunk.”’

“The guys are coming over?” Jessie asked from the doorframe. 

You spun around to look at her, surprised by her sudden presence. “Yeah, Ben is going to stay the night here.”

She raised a brow, a silent question that you easily ignored. “Are you telling me that our girls night is being cut short because Ben wants to hang out with you?”

You rolled your eyes. “As if. He got locked out of his place, he wanted to stay here. It’s just easier if I indulge him.” You sighed, looking between your friends. “Besides, this could be good, right? Maybe I’ll get to talk to him.”

Sarah hummed in agreement. The four of you got to work cleaning up the apartment, trying to get the living room back to presentable before your friends showed up. The boys were always a little too rowdy when the got drunk, especially Ben. However, when you got the familiar knock on the door, you were surprised at the sight before you. 

Smith and Matt, giggly as usual, held Ben up as Harry knocked, but Ben looked sorrowful, his eyelid drooping as he frowned between your friends. “Whoa, what’s going on here?”

At the sound of your voice, Ben’s head lifted a little, his brows turning up at the sight of you. “Y/N,” he whined, struggling to break free from his friends grip before they finally let him go, allowing him to stumble closer to you.

“Hi, Ben,” you greeted worriedly. He threw his arms around your shoulders, holding you against his chest. 

“I missed you,” he breathed, not loosening his grip on you. “How’s the baby?”

You looked back at the girls in your apartment, who looked as worried as you felt. They slipped out the door, patting you reassuringly on the back, leaving you and Ben alone as they closed the door quietly behind them. 

“He’s good,” you answered, pulling away slightly to look up at him. “What happened? Are you okay?”

He frowned down at you. “I’m sorry for not talking to you.” He apologized lowly.

“It’s okay, Ben. Let’s get you to bed, yeah?” 

You pushed him toward the couch, where Sarah had stacked an extra blanket. He allowed you to lead him there, even flopping easily onto the couch. You pulled off his shoes, listening to his half-hearted humming, before you threw the blanket over him.

You knelt beside his head, running a hand through his hair with furrowed brows. “Are you okay?” You asked again, ignoring the fluttering in your heart as he looked up at you sadly. 

One of his hands reached down, touching your bump protectively as he looked at you. “I think so,” he answered. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you answered immediately. “Where have you been?”

“Was afraid I ruined everything. With the kiss.” He looked up at you, green eyes crestfallen. You frowned. “I’m sorry I kissed you.”

You shook your head. “Don’t be sorry.”

And then, as though he was on a mission to surprise you, Ben said, “I just want you to want me.”

You looked at him in shock but he looked away, cheeks burning from embarrassment and the alcohol, his hand still on your stomach. “I do,” you admitted quietly. 

He didn’t bother looking at you, groaning quietly. “No, you don’t. You never have. I was always stupid Ben, who you hated. Now I’m just your friend.”

You looked down at him, melancholy creeping into your heart. You wondered how long he had been struggling with this and your heart ached knowing he couldn’t come to you for help. “Ben, you’ll never just be my friend,” you breathed, running your fingers through his hair. He turned back to you, green eyes glimmering even in the low light of your living room. “At the very least, you’ll always be my baby daddy.”

He laughed softly, burying his head into the throw pillow beneath him. You smiled along with him, your hand slowing in his hair. “I smoked a cigarette this week.” He admitted, voice slurring.

“Just one?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Ben. Go to sleep; we’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”

He nodded, his eyes already closing as he allowed sleep to take over. Silently, you turned off the light in your living room and made your way to your bedroom, your heart pounding and sleep creeping into the corners of your eyes. 

Ben had surprised you tonight. It broke your heart to think of him, so sweet and so endlessly selfish, unable to tell you how he felt. You think of him, asleep in the living room, peaceful despite the circumstances, and you felt a little bit better. 

Crawling into bed, you closed your eyes, sighing tiredly. You weren’t sure if it was because you had finally talked, like we always did, for the first time in three weeks, or if it was because he was in close proximity, but you found yourself falling asleep in moments.

The following morning, you wake up before Ben. You had expected it, but you were still surprised by the silence in your apartment. You stretched your arms over your head, grunting softly and yawning before you threw your legs over the side of your bed, standing up to open your curtains before you padded out of your room to check on Ben.

Your heart ached at the sight of him. Though Ben always looked relaxed, you were amazed at how light he looked, his skin smooth and his mouth slightly agape. Milo had curled into his side at some time throughout the night and you quietly cooed at the sight, neither of them stirring at the sound.

It all felt right. You filled a glass of water and grabbed a couple Tylenol for Ben, setting them on the coffee table in front of him. You sunk in the loveseat across the room from the couch with a book, glad to keep Ben in your sights as you got some reading done. Though you assumed you would have felt uncomfortable, as though you were tip-toeing around him, it felt pleasant, like it was something you had been doing everyday as long as you could remember.

You couldn’t have been in the living room for more than half an hour, just barely getting into your book when he groaned loudly, startling both you and Milo, who scampered out of the living room quickly as Ben stretched. “Ah, fuck,” he breathed, the heel of his hand pressing into his temple as his eyes fluttered open.

You watched the confusion register on his face as he woke up, his eyes darting around the living room before finally resting on you, the tightness in his muscles disappearing as he relaxed slightly. You motioned silently toward the glass and he exhaled sharply, sitting up on his elbow to throw the pills back and drink down the glass.

“How are you feeling?” You asked quietly, unsure how severe his hangover was.

He smiled smally over at you, flopping back down on the couch with a grunt. “Better than I thought I would,” he answered, rolling over on his side to look at you. “Why am I here?” He asked, looking at you curiously.

You smiled, closing your book and tilting your head as you looked at him. His eyes were still clouded with sleep but he watched you with rapt attention, green eyes watching your every move. “I guess you lost your keys last night, so they brought you here.”

His brows furrowed as he tried to recall the events of the night before. He frowned before he groaned softly. “M’sorry. I don’t know why I didn’t just go to Harry’s.”

Against your better judgment, you said, “It’s okay. I’m just glad to see you.”

He smiled shyly, tucking the blanket under his chin. “I’m glad to see you too.” 

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, both of you wondering the same thing but neither asking the question. Should you bring up what he had said last night? You doubted Ben even remembered, but he was running over the small bit of the conversation he could remember in his mind. _“Don’t be sorry,”_ you had urged. Did it mean what he hoped it did? 

There was an extended silence, the two of you staring at one another before you said, “I like when you’re here.” 

His cheeks warmed and he sat up, throwing his blanket back and crossing to crouch before you. Tentatively, with a confirmation nod from you, Ben put a hand on your stomach, a small smile crossing his face. “I like it too. I like being with you guys.” 

And then, under his palm, he felt a small nudge. His brows furrowed and he looked up to your face, a small smile growing on your lips. You always felt it more when Ben was around, but you had never been able to feel the baby kick from the outside. Instead, you only usually ever felt them internally. “I think he likes the sound of your voice. He gets really excited when you’re around,” you smiled, watching Ben’s reactions carefully. “He knows his dad, I guess.”

“That’s him?” He asked, green eyes wide, his hand still on your stomach. You nodded in response.

“Say something.”

He paused, searching for the words he wanted to say. “Hey, Bean,” he started, looking up at you. You motioned for him to continue. “I know it’s kind of far away, but I’m really excited to meet you.” He laughed disbelievingly as the baby kicked again, right against Ben’s hand, and he continued to speak. “I thought you were going to be a girl, but your mum was right. She pretty much always is, so I don’t know why I ever doubted her.” You looked at him, your eyes soft, and your hand raised to brush his hair from his eyes. His lips quirked into a smile. With a choked voice, he said, “I’m so grateful I have you.”

You weren’t sure whether he was talking to you or the baby, so you just smiled and continued running your fingers through your hair. “I’m glad you were here for this,” you revealed, smiling down at him.

He was quiet for a moment, looking up at you contemplatively, his eyes crinkled in thought. “I want to be around for more,” he decided.

You rolled your eyes, hand stilling and falling to his shoulder. “Then stop ignoring me.”

He grunted in annoyance, looking away from you. “You know what I mean.” And then, before you could respond, “Also, I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you.” You smiled, squeezing his shoulder.

He pursed his lips, looking away for a second before gathering his courage and saying, “Feel free to tell me I’m insane.”

“I really love where this is going,” you teased, grinning down at him.

“What if we moved in together?”

Your jaw dropped, looking down at him with wide eyes as he stared back worriedly, raising a curious brow. “Ben, are you—what?” You spluttered.

“I mean, is it really so crazy?” He asked, his hand still on your abdomen. His thumb rubbed soothing circles through your thin sweater. “When he’s born, it’ll be easier if we’re together, right? A-and I want to be around to help you out, y’know? I feel like I’m barely involved right now, but if we’re living together, I can help out all the time, right?” He rambled, his other hand landing on your bump as well.

At both the contact and how hard he was pushing this, you smiled. “I don’t think that sounds so crazy.”

“Really?”

You paused, eyes narrowing slightly. “Well, I don’t know. It’s definitely a little bit insane, but we should just do it.” His face broke into a large grin, hands holding your bump with a racing heart. “We had better find your keys, though, huh?”

And you thought you were unable to escape your feelings for Ben before, but you knew it was only just beginning.


	6. I Want You Here.

“I like your couch better than mine,” Ben grinned, carefully arranging the throw pillows in the same way they usually rested in your apartment. It had been against your lease to paint your white walls in your old apartment, which had left you with colorful furniture. 

None of which exactly fit in Ben’s apartment.

His place, perfectly decorated in greys and whites, completely KonMari-d and so entirely organized, now overflowed with furniture. He had insisted on going fifty-fifty; keeping half of his furniture and bringing in half of yours. Including your couch.

You hummed, keeping a close eye on Milo and Frankie, who seemed to be getting along rather well yet, before looking up at him. “I liked your couch.” You pouted, your act breaking at the sight of his excited smile.

“Not as much as you like yours,” he scoffed, stepping back to look at his work before turning around triumphantly. You smiled back, wordless confirmation that he was right, before you sat down, huffing and resting a hand on your bump. He sat next to you, his arm thrown across the back of the couch and around your shoulder. “Need a break?”

You nodded, your head lolling to look at him with a lazy smile. He had moved almost all of your things out of your modest apartment, with the help of your friends. You had barely lifted a finger and you owed it all to Ben. Even so, you felt exhausted. He had warned you that it was likely that fatigue was going to set in soon, but you had only waved him off, barely heeding his warnings. Now, it was hitting full-force (also hitting full force: your attraction to Ben, but you were still trying to keep that at bay).

“How can I do absolutely nothing and still be so ridiculously tired?”

He laughed, playing with your hair casually and tilting his head sympathetically. “I’m sorry,” he frowned, arm tightening around your shoulders for a second before releasing you. You sighed, allowing your head to roll onto his shoulder before you yawned. 

“It’s okay. I was going to say that it isn’t your fault, but we both know that isn’t true, so…” you trailed off.

“Hey, that’s not fair!” He exclaimed, laughing incredulously. “It takes two to tango.”

“ _Ew_!” You squealed, giggling and trying to roll out of his grasp. He tightened his grip on you again, throwing his other arm around you to keep you on the couch with him. “Let go of me, you pervert,” you laughed, trying to squirm away from him.

“No,” he declared, holding you tighter against his chest. “You’re stuck with me now. Nowhere to hide. I know where you sleep.”

“Ben!” You wheezed, chest tightening with laughter as you finally indulged him, wrapping your arms around his shoulder. 

The laughter faded, leaving the air staticky with silence and electricity as you laid in one another’s arms, both Frankie and Milo jumping onto the couch with the two of you. A lazy, blissful smile crossed over Ben’s face. “The whole family,” he murmured mindlessly, his hand rubbing up and down your back. 

The exhaustion you felt before had multiplied tenfold as you relaxed in Ben’s arms, his body heat lulling you to sleep as you yawned. “S’nice,” you noted. “All of us together.”

Heart leaping at your acceptance of the word ‘family,’ he smiled down at you, softly moving your hair from your neck, noticing a thin sheen of sweat despite the cold weather, an attempt to keep you cool. “Tired?” He asked in an undertone, looking into your hazy eyes.

You hummed an affirmative, scratching his back lazily and nuzzling into his chest. “Can I take a nap here?”

Ben almost made a joke, something lazy about you not wanting to sleep on a mattress on the floor, but your eyes fluttering closed as you held him tightly wiped his mind clear of all smart-ass remarks. Instead, he said, “Of course.”

“Are you going to stay with me?” You asked, words slurring together as you began to fade into sleep. 

“If that’s what you want,” he returned, feeling sleep creep into the corners of his own eyes as your fingers tightened around the hoodie he was wearing.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, clutching onto him, desperately trying to keep him on the couch with you. Ben didn’t reply, just kept his hand moving over your back until your breathing had evened out. Maybe it was the comfort of having you close, or maybe it really was the spent energy of moving your things catching up to him, but before Ben could slip from between you and the couch, he had fallen asleep too.

***

Just one week of living with Ben had been better than three years of living on your own. Blissful. You could barely even remember your life before the baby, before you and Ben had fallen into one another's lives. It seemed as though this was how it had always been, you and Ben brushing your teeth together in the mornings and him picking you up from work and taking turns cooking dinner. It, like most things with Ben, felt right. 

“Y/N!” He called, voice echoing throughout the apartment. You had finally settled, _fully_ settled, into your new bedroom, all your things unpacked, your room decorated and clothes hung. You knew exactly where he was with one glance at the clock.

When you padded out of your room to join him in the kitchen, you almost faltered at the sight of him, so perfectly domestic and utterly comfortable around you. He was barefoot, despite the winter, a hand towel thrown over his shoulder as he cut vegetables. He looked up at the sound of you entering the room, popping a small carrot in his mouth as he grinned at the sight of you.

Leaning against the doorframe, you smiled back. “You called?”

“God, look at you,” he shook his head, the corners of his lips still upturned as he looked back down at the cutting board.

Your cheeks flushed, your smile turning bashful. “What?”

It was the sight he had been desperate to see for years. You, in his kitchen, in his sweatshirt, that sweet little smile playing on your lips and the fantasy was nothing compared to the real thing. Nothing compared to the way his sweatshirt fit around your bump. Around his baby. It almost made his heart stop.

He just shook his head again, unable to put into words how fulfilled he felt at the mere sight of you. “Dinner is done.”

You ventured further into the kitchen, leaning against the island across from him. You gave him a saccharine smile, your eyes darting behind him to look at the stove. “Smells good,” you complimented plainly.

Crossing the kitchen to grab some plates, Ben hummed a thanks. You admired him as he plated the food, your heart pounding against your chest. “Thought we could do the old dinner-and-a-movie bit in the comfort of our home, hm?”

You smirked as he handed you a plate. “Are you tricking me into a date, Jones?”

“You should only be so lucky,” he teased, a cheeky wink thrown your way before he made his way out of the kitchen. You grinned, following him into the living room. It’s finally looking better, all of Ben’s excess furniture having been moved out and yours taking their places. It had all fit a little better than you had expected with Ben’s bright apartment, the colors livening up the place.

By the time you finally got to the couch, Ben was already chastising Frankie for begging for food while Milo watched on, unenthused by them. You looked between Ben and the dog, both equally stubborn, unwilling to change their stance. You rolled your eyes, setting your plate on the coffee table and flopping onto the couch beside him.

If you thought Ben was irresistible before, living with him only served to kill you. You had tried desperately to not even look at him, unable to control your feelings any longer. He had taken over every thought, every moment of your life, until just the sight of him made your stomach turn. Before, when you were in your own apartment, you had a break from him. You had a place to escape from him and to be alone with your thoughts, but now you were constantly bombarded with him and how unbelievably sexy he was without even realizing it.

As you watched him from the corner of your eye, you winced only slightly. If you were struggling after just one week, you couldn’t even imagine the next four months.

***

“I think I may kill Ben,” you announced, tossing your lunch bag down on the table in the breakroom.

Sarah snickered, looking up at you with an amused smile. “Trouble in paradise?”

You groaned, flopping into a chair across from her and beginning to unpack your lunch. “Wouldn’t that be ideal?” You asked, looking up to her. “I _wish_ there were trouble, but no. He is so stupidly perfect that I want to hack all over the place every single time I see him.”

“God, please don’t say hack.”

“I mean, he’s so sweet. All the time. It never ends. Yesterday, I mentioned that I wanted chips and within two minutes he was out the door. And he always feeds Milo because I hate doing it. He packs my lunch _every day_ ,” You rambled, pushing around your stir fry as you pouted.

“And how are these bad things, exactly?” She pushed tentatively, crossing her arms to inspect you.

“You’re joking, right?” You scoffed, glaring at her from across the table. “I can barely hold it together around him as it is, and when he does shit like this, all I want to do is kiss him until I pass out.”

“That can’t possibly be good for the baby,” she teased, smirking when you groaned.

“Sarah, this is serious!” You huffed, running a hand through your hair. “The worst part is that I like him more than ever but I think he’s getting sick of me.”

“There’s no way. _Literally_ no way,” Sarah shook her head. “Did you ever think, maybe, being so close to you is hard for him too? I mean, it was hard on him to hang out with you before, but now, you two are together _all the time_. Ben is probably just as frustrated as you are, and not at you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, right. Like Ben wants me _now_.”

“Oh, my god, just go out with him. You guys are basically married as it is.” The two of you stared at one another in a heady silence, a standoff, before you faltered, resting your elbows on the table and leaning closer to her to whisper.

“Can I tell you something embarrassing?”

“Jesus, please do,” she exclaimed, leaning toward you.

“I am so incredibly horny _all the time_. My sex drive was supposed to come back in my second trimester but it hit me like a train, and living with Ben is not helping in any way.”

As though she had come to a realization, her eyebrows raised. “Is that why you’ve been such a cranky bitch for the past few weeks?”

You chortled, kicking the table stand to make it shake. Turning your attention back to your stir fry, you continued to laugh. “I have _not!_ ”

“Oh, you have so!” She returned, rolling her eyes. “You practically bit Smith’s head off last night,” she reminded, taking a sip of her water.

“Smith was being an asshole,” you defended, furrowing your brows.

“Smith was being Smith. In fact, I would argue that he was more toned down last night than he has been since—ever, I think.”

You tried to remember, but you could barely even picture Smith’s face, Ben still clouding your mind. You looked down at your lunch, which he had cooked, packed, and sent with you, complete with a little note, and you felt your heart leap. 

Noticing your sudden silence, Sarah sighed. “You know that Ben would leap at the first chance to be with you, right?” She asked softly, reaching across the table to grab your hand. You shrugged, shaking your head.

“It doesn’t matter. I would never jeopardize my relationship with him for something so silly,” you murmured, your stomach turning.

She didn’t reply, just watching you. The mood in the breakroom had shifted down dramatically, so you cleared your throat and began to pack up your lunch. 

“I think I’m going to go back to my desk,” you excused, slipping from the room before she could answer.

***

You couldn’t lie and say you were surprised that living together had unraveled so quickly, but it wouldn’t be a stretch to say that you were beyond disappointed. 

If you could hear the thoughts running through Ben’s head, you would have been shocked. Somehow, Ben seemed to have been even worse off than you when it came to the proximity. As you sat at the counter, some work documents spread out before you, Ben kept his eyes glued to you. Your eyes almost fluttered shut as you struggled to keep fatigue at bay, spinning your pen between your fingers to keep yourself awake.

He cleared his throat, alerting you of his presence. You jumped in your seat, spinning around to look at him in surprise. “Christ, Ben, you scared the shit out of me,” you huffed, eyes narrowing in his direction. Three weeks. You had only made it three weeks before your frustration had gotten the best of you. Between preparing to go on maternity leave and seeing Ben every second of every day, your irritability had reached new heights.

And he looked absolutely sinful, more so than usual. Even in the winter, Ben’s body temperature ran far too high and you found yourself shivering more often than not since you had moved into the apartment. The solution at the time had been simple: turn up the heat. He was too sweet to let you suffer, but the higher temperature had left Ben sweater. Usually, he confined himself to his room when he stripped down, but he stands before you, only in his boxers as he searched through the fridge. “Sorry,” he murmured, voice dark.

“Where are your clothes?” You asked sharply, sitting up in your chair. “One of these days, you’re going to get sick,” you chastised.

Even when he was irritated beyond belief, he couldn’t bring himself to potentially hurt your feelings, so instead of the snarky reply he was formulating, he elected to stay silent.

Usually, any frustration he felt was washed away at the sight of you, but now, he could almost feel the tension in the room. It was bound to happen, the two of you on edge with each other. When Ben walked around looking the way he did and you had taken to wearing his shirts as you outgrew most of your own, there was absolutely no way for the two of you to function well. It was amazing that you had lasted this long.

At his silence, your jaw set and you glared at him.

“Benjamin.” 

It’s a warning to trump all others, your voice thick and minatory as you stared at him from across the kitchen. With your work papers forgotten, your full attention was on Ben, who ran a hand over his face tiredly.

“I can’t fucking do this anymore,” he snapped, closing the fridge harshly and turning to look at you.

That stung. You stared at him in silence for a moment before you came to your senses. “Do you think this is _easy_ for me, Ben?” You asked, standing from your chair. “I left my apartment for you, and you can barely even fucking _look_ at me!”

He sighed, resting his hands on his hips tiredly. “That’s not what I—”

“Aside from that, I’m six months pregnant, I’m fucking exhausted _all the time_ , my back hurts, I grew out of all my clothes _again_ , my feet are always swelling, and I can’t—” You stopped to take a deep breath, matching his stance and blinking tears away. “I can not stop crying. To top it all off, you’re walking around this place _naked_ and I get it, Ben, I really do. This was your place before it was mine but I can’t handle it anymore. Being here it’s—it’s too much.”

Ben looked at you, his brows drawn in a line. “Y/N, do you—do you not want to live here anymore?”

“That isn’t the _problem_ ,” you groaned, turning around to sit in your chair again. “I want you to—to be able to look at me. I want us to go back to normal,” you huffed, wiping a tear away with the back of your hand.

“We can’t go back to normal if we’re living together,” he sighed, stepping toward you. With a shuddering breath, he reached out for your hand. You turned around, wiping another tear away with a sniffle.

With an unamused laugh, you shook your head. “No, I guess we can’t.” You turned back around to look at him, melancholy settling in your chest. “We knew the risks, though, right? I mean, we both knew this was crazy and we still did it. I just didn’t think it was going to go downhill so fast.”

“I don’t want you to leave,” he rushed. You opened your mouth to respond, but Ben’s hands gripped your face, keeping your eyes on his. “I’m sorry I’m such a prick, Y/N, I really am. Please stay here. I want you here.”

“Why? We’re supposed to be in this together for the long run. Me being here is only ruining our relationship.”

“It’s hard for me, okay? You being here,” he admitted, his hands falling to his sides. “It’s hard, but not because I don’t want you here. Because you—you’re walking around in my clothes, laughing that laugh, and Christ, you look more beautiful than you ever have, carrying my child, and I know it’s against the rules for me to say that, okay? I _know_. But it’s true. It’s hard because I want you so _bad_ and having you close to me is making it hard to keep my distance.”

You both stood in silence for a moment and the crease between your brows appeared, the one Ben always pressed his thumb against, and he had to force himself to keep his hand at his side. 

“Ben,” you whispered, taking a step toward him. He stayed quiet, allowing you to grab his hand. Hand in hand, you looked up at him and tremulously, you breathed, “Tell me it isn’t because I’m pregnant.”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” he laughed softly, cupping your face. “It’s not because you’re pregnant. You could have been married and pregnant with some other bloke’s kid and I would still feel this way.”

“Why would I live with you if I was married to someone else?” You asked, blinking away the tears in your eyes.

“God, it’s so like you to miss the point by such a large margin.” You both laughed, leaning forward until your foreheads pressed together, one of Ben’s hands cupping the back of your neck. “It’s not because you’re pregnant. It’s because you’re you.”

You looked into his eyes, seeing nothing but earnestness and adoration. “The girls told me you’ve liked me since you met me.”

He laughed again, his breath fanning over your face. “Naturally.”

“Is it true?” You pushed.

Ben hummed, pulling you a bit closer. “Of course it is,” he confirmed.

The words you had been waiting to hear. Your heart melted and your arms wrapped around his waist, his body heat warming you even through the sweatshirt you wore. “Even after I was so awful to you?”

A smile spread across Ben’s face, his smooth skin wrinkling. “Only made you warming up to me that much sweeter.”

“Oh, my god, stop it.” You groaned, a quiet, giddy laugh bubbling from your lips. “You’re so cheesy.”

A silence filled the minimal space between you and you took in a sharp breath, grateful for the small amount of space between your chests that your stomach permitted. “Do you—“ Ben cleared his throat, shy and soft as he looked away from you, unable to finish his question.

“Yes,” you rushed, squeezing him softly. “Yeah. I do.”

He couldn’t wipe the smile from his face, his chest ready to burst as he held you, the feelings he had kept to himself for so long finally in the open. “So, when are you going to let me kiss you?”

“When you put some clothes on,” you squinted with a smile.

He snorted. “You know we’ve seen each other naked, right?”

Your brows furrowed. “I don’t remember that therefore it never happened.”

“Ah, okay,” he nodded, a smile playing on his lips. “So, if I put some clothes on, you’ll let me kiss you?”

You paused, feigning thought before you finally answered, “We’ve got things to talk about, Jones.”

Releasing you, Ben began backing out of the room. “Just a little one?”

The grin you had been suppressing finally broke through, your eyes squinting as you looked at him. He mirrored you, almost out of the kitchen when you ceded. “Okay,” you said smally.

He didn’t answer, leaving the room and padding down to his bedroom. Your hands clasped over your chest, the sight of a lovesick pregnant woman, and you gave yourself a moment to digest the past ten minutes. You bent at the knees, crushed under the weight of your adoration. You could already imagine the reaction of your friends, the excited whoops and squeals and ‘ _finally_ ’s, but for now, you were focused entirely on Ben.

Ben, who swooped into the room—fully clothed—and didn’t give you a moment before he had you in his arms, pressing his lips to yours and stealing your breath. You moaned quietly, hands clutching his biceps as he kissed you. While the kiss you had shared in the department store had been sweet and soft, this one completely pulled the rug from under you. If Ben hadn’t been holding you up, your knees would have buckled.

He pulled away and your eyes remained closed, desperately trying to catch your breath. “That wasn’t a little one.”

He grinned, leaning down to peck your lips once. “What about that one?”

You bit your lip, leaning back against the counter. “That was more what I was thinking.”

“Good.” His hands slid to your hips and guided you back to sit on the chair at the counter. “Now, what did you want to talk about?”

You stared at him in shock, your eyes wide and your mouth open slightly. “We, um…” you shook your head to clear your thoughts. “We need to talk about this. Before we pursue anything.”

“But you do want to pursue something?” He clarified, doubt clouding his green eyes.

Expression softening, you reached across the counter to grab his hand. “Of course I do.”

He squeezed your hand and you allowed yourself to have a moment, a silent reflection. You could cry just looking at Ben, his green eyes soft and curious as he watched you.

Your cheeks flushed and you pulled your hand away to flip the page of the notebook before you. “I was thinking that we handle this the same way we handled Bean.” You proposed, the pen in your hand already writing a title at the top of the page.

“We are not making a list of rules for this relationship,” he chuckled. Despite his denial, he did nothing to stop your hand from writing at the top of the page.

“Why not?” You posed, looking up at him. “It’s a precarious situation we’re in, Ben. There needs to be some sort of guideline.”

Ben looked at you with a raised brow. “This will make you happy?”

“This will ease my stress a little bit.” You nodded.

Aptly named, the relationship plan followed almost the same structure as the pregnancy plan. Ben, even with his skepticism over the list in the first place, offered several different additions. When the two of you parted at night, with a sweet kiss outside your bedroom door, there was a second plan atop the first.

_**The Relationship Plan  
1\. Y/N and Ben will execute proper communication.  
2\. Bean is the top priority.  
3\. Ben can say Y/N is “carrying his child” in moderation.  
4\. Y/N will keep wearing Ben’s clothes.  
5\. Ben will never watch shared shows ahead of Y/N.  
6\. Ben will keep going on midnight snack runs.  
7\. Ben and Y/N will always share a good night kiss.** _

And as far as you could tell, they didn’t seem like bad terms.


	7. Being Realistic.

A knock on the door on a lazy Saturday afternoon made you jump off the couch and squeal in excitement, bouncing to the front door to receive your package. Ben watched in surprise and confusion as you swung open the door, exclaiming loudly at the sight of the box. “Yes!” You jumped, clapping your hands and turning to look at Ben expectantly, still on the couch. “Help me bring it in?”

He stood from the couch, brows furrowed as he approached you. “What is it?” He asked cautiously. The nondescript box was thin but long, propped against the wall beside his door as he waved you away from it, silently declining your help.

“It’s the crib,” you answered easily, looking at Ben.

He paused, bent over the box, and he looked up at you in surprise. “You bought a _crib_?”

You smiled sheepishly, rubbing your hands over your sweatpants. “Maybe.”

“Y/N,” he laughed, shaking his head and finding his grip on the box, lifting it up with a grunt and stepping into the apartment. You closed the door behind him, watching him carry it further into the apartment, setting it down at the hallway entrance. “We haven’t even decided where he’s going to be sleeping and you’re buying _cribs_?”

“Just the one,” you teased, a small smile playing on your lips. You crossed the room, wrapping your arms around his waist, his stomach pressing against yours as you grinned up at him.

A knowing look crossed his face and you groaned, rolling your head back. He leaned down, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips before pulling away just slightly. “You know what I mean.”

You bit your lip, looking up at him. “Feel free to call me crazy,” you recalled his words, making him smile.

He leaned down again, his lips brushing your own as he replied, “I like where this is going.” He kissed you again, a chaste peck, his arms tightening around your waist and one of his brows rising in curiosity.

“I know it isn’t ideal, but I was thinking, maybe, we could put him in the office?” You winced slightly, looking up at him hopefully. It was no secret to either of you that you adored the office. As you prepared to go on maternity leave, you had begun spending more time there than Ben ever had. A three-bedroom apartment for one man had proved to be almost too much, but you had more than made up for the office’s years of disuse. “Or we could put him in my room. I guess it doesn’t really matter.”

Ben made a face, as though he was thinking about something before he looked down at you, his brow still raised. “Well, _I_ was thinking,” he murmured, his nose brushing yours, “maybe we could put him in your room.”

You nodded. “Yeah, I’ll just have to move some stuff around. It’s big enough that—”

“God, you are beyond clueless,” he laughed, rolling his eyes and nudging your nose. “Subtlety just doesn’t work with you.”

You raised a brow, looking at him in suspicion. “So, you...do want him in my room? Or…” you trailed off, confused.

Ben chuckled. “Yes, I want him in your room. And I want you in mine.”

You stared at him in surprise, the gears in your mind turning slowly as you processed his words. “In...your room.”

He watched your reaction carefully. “Yeah. With me.”

Three weeks, you and Ben had been together. Granted, you had never so perfectly fit with someone; Ben made your life blissful even before you were together, but since the two of you had taken a new step in your relationship, it had reached new heights. However, three weeks was nothing. Not in the big picture. You pursed your lips in thought.

You figured that you had already taken the two biggest risks in your relationship with Ben: moving in and acting on your feelings. If anything were to happen, you were already living with him. After all, your relationship was anything but conventional already. There was no use in trying to apply logic to anything the two of you did.

“Okay. But can we change the bedspread?”

Ben threw his head back in a loud laugh, rolling his eyes. “You’re already trying to make changes and you haven’t even started moving your stuff yet.”

You grinned up at him, catching his lips in a kiss, moaning softly against his mouth. “Not gonna change _everything_ ,” you assured, your smile turning cheeky.

“I do have one condition, though,” he mentioned, looking down at you seriously. “I’ll buy the nursery things from now on, yeah?” He stipulated.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m a _career woman_ , Ben. I can afford it.”

He smiled at your stubbornness. “I know you can, but I want to buy them.” You glared up at him and Ben rolled his eyes to mirror you. “You get to bond with this kid for nine months, and what do I get?”

“A grumpy pregnant lady.” You teased.

He leaned down to kiss you again. “Let me buy his love, hm?”

You giggled as he ducked his head to nuzzle into your neck. “Fine,” you ceded, a smile splitting your face as he pressed a kiss to your neck.

You couldn’t lie and say you weren’t pleased to keep the office around, and the thought of going to bed with Ben every night made your heart flutter. There was a certainty in him that you had lacked in every other relationship. Ben knew what he wanted, and so did you. It seemed that the years leading up to this, to the baby and the relationship and the moving in together had built up and suddenly exploded, leaving you in a relationship where you had hit the ground running.

And you couldn’t even say that it scared you.

Ben, as crazy as it sounded, made you feel secure. Unwavering support and endless affection were all you ever received from him. You never wondered where you stood with him, especially not since he had admitted his feelings to you. It was unlike anything you had ever experienced with a boyfriend, if you could even call him that. For better or for worse, Ben was around to stay, and you wouldn’t prefer it any other way.

***

“As it turns out, work sucks when you aren’t here,” Sarah grumbled through the phone. You sat on the edge of the bed, watching Ben hang your shirts in his—your—closet as you laughed at her words.

“Weird how that works, huh?” You ask teasingly, fingers running over the new duvet cover on the bed mindlessly. “If it makes you feel better, I’m _already_ starting to go a little stir-crazy.”

Ben shot you a look, faux-offended, and you blew him a small kiss, making him shake his head with a minute smile. “Are you kidding? I’d kill to go on maternity leave. Six months of hanging out at home? Couldn’t think of a better way to spend my time.”

“Well, it’s only been a week and I’m already getting bored. Turns out, Ben’s boring company.” At the sound of his name and your playful dig, he snorted.

Sarah chuckled. “How’s it going, then? With Ben? You guys sick of each other yet?”

You bit your lip, a smile threatening to break across your face as you shook your head. “Nope. Perfect as ever.”

She gagged. “As if you two weren’t gross enough before you got together.”

You laughed, standing up and patting Ben softly as you walked out of the room. “I’ll try to tone it down.” You offered, crossing the hall to look into your previous bedroom. “Hey, we’re about to set up the crib. Can I call you later?”

“Yeah, sure. Send me pictures when you’re done,” she demanded.

You agreed and hung up with a quiet goodbye. The bedroom you had inhabited before was nearly empty, the bedframe dismantled and the mattress moved out of the room. All that was left was the dressers Ben had put in when it had been turned into a guest room, a wooden rocking chair Ben had bought on a whim long before you had even moved in, and the crib, still in the box, the grey walls blank as you sighed softly. Though you held true to the fact that you never worried about whether or not you and Ben would be able to raise the baby, you felt better about it than ever as the puzzle pieces began to fit together.

You heard Ben’s socked feet sliding across the hardwood floors before his hands were caressing your belly from behind, a content sigh falling from his lips as he rested his chin on your shoulder. “We don’t have to do the crib right now. I think we’re due for a break,” he offered, looking into the room along with you.

You smiled, your hands resting atop of his as you nodded. “Lunch?”

He turned his head and pressed a sweet kiss to your jawline. “S’like you read my mind,” he hummed, releasing you and walking to the kitchen. You followed him, your hands in your pockets as you listened to Ben hum quietly. “I’m thinking we eat some lunch,” he spun around to look at you, a wide grin on his face as he reached for you. “and go take a nap.” 

You laughed, allowing him to wrap his arms around you. “Mm, a nap with you? You really know the way to my heart,” you hummed.

“Yeah?” He purred playfully, nudging your nose with his own. “And then, when we wake up, I’ll put the crib together, and you don’t even have to help.” 

You moaned, tilting your head to kiss him softly. Laughing softly, he hummed against your mouth, hands pressing against the small of your back, his tongue tracing your lower lip. You pulled away, a knowing smirk crossing your lips. “Don’t distract me.” 

He groaned, his head falling back. “From your lunch? Like I could even try.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “You were doing a good job, if that makes you feel better,” you soothed, your hands smoothing the t-shirt he was wearing over his shoulder blades.

Lunch went quickly and without much conversation, both of you looking forward to some relaxation after an, admittedly, rather uneventful day. Quietly, the two of you set your dishes in the sink, vowing to wash them later, and you padded off to the bedroom. Sharing the bed was still exciting, something you weren’t yet used to, so you couldn’t help your giddiness when you crawled under the duvet with him. The sheets, cold from the frigid February chill, were a welcome contrast against Ben’s skin, warm to the point of being just on the verge of unbearable, and you hummed contentedly, curling closer to him and drifting to sleep before you could even consider setting an alarm.

When you woke up, Ben was holding you tight, his body almost conforming to yours. You groaned tiredly, pressing your chest into his in order to get closer to him despite the light sheen of sweat on your skin. You forced your eyes open, looking up at Ben to find his eyes already on you. You could feel Milo kneading your calf, but you were completely focused on Ben’s bright eyes, clear of sleep. You smiled lazily. “Hey,” you yawned, voice thick with sleep.

“G’morning,” Ben said quietly, his voice holding a quiet reverence. You hummed, tightening your arms around him momentarily. You stayed silent, your hand smoothing the t-shirt over his chest lazily. Ben felt his heart leap at the affection, his eyes still on you as you struggled to fully wake up. He still couldn’t believe his luck.

A year ago, you couldn’t care less about Ben. Every conversation you had was spent rolling your eyes or scoffing at what he said or making snarky remarks and now here you were, a little further away than he would like due to your ever-growing stomach, his baby, but still curled into his side, eyes heavy from your nap. And you were his. Neither of you had said the words yet but you both knew it: Ben was all yours, and you were his. 

His girl. The mother of his son. Just the thought of it almost made his chest explode under the pressure of his adoration. Ben had never even imagined, not in a million years, that you would ever even take a shine to him, let alone allow him to be holding you in his arms, in his bed. _Your_ bed. 

“What are you looking at, creep?” You asked, voice muffled against the cotton of his shirt.

“You,” he murmured. 

A smile crossed your face at his unabashed affection. “You’re just trying to flatter your way out of putting together the crib.”

Ben rolled you onto your back, a playfully scandalized gasp coming from him as you giggled. Looking down at you, Ben gaped, “How dare you.” You only continued to laugh until Ben leaned down and kissed you. “I’ve been looking forward to putting that crib together all week.”

You scoffed, your eyes bright as you stared up at him. “Who are you kidding?”

“You know what? I’m going to go put that crib together right now to show you.” Ben said, kissing you chastely once more before scooting down the bed to kiss your belly as well. “Keep your mum company, James.”

You raised both eyebrows in surprise. “Trying to name him already, I see.”

Ben grinned up at you, kissing your stomach once more before rolling off the bed. “Just something I’ve been thinking about.” He shrugged.

You sat up on your elbows, watching Ben as he threw on a sweatshirt. “So, James? That’s a name you like?”

An easy smile was sent your way. “Again, just something I was thinking about.”

With a roll of your eyes, you sat up all the way, your belly only making it slightly more difficult. “That’s not an answer, Benjamin.” 

“Come sit with me in the nursery and we can talk about it,” he offered, stuffing his hands in his pockets and nodding his head towards the door. 

You huffed, crawling off the bed and walking toward Ben, your toes curling against the cold hardwood as Ben wrapped an arm around your waist, his palm pressing against the swell of your stomach as you shivered slightly. “Y’need a rug in here.”

“Pick one out, baby, and we can put it down.”

Despite all the physical affection the two of you had shared in the past few weeks, vocalized affection was much rarer. It made his pet name hit you harder, butterflies erupting in your stomach as your cheeks flushed. “Okay,“ you whispered, biting your lip as he guided you to the nursery.

“So, you don’t like James?” He asked in your ear. 

You giggled and leaned into his side, allowing him to guide you down the hallway. “We’ll find something.”

Ben threw his head back in a hearty laugh, pulling you closer. “Yeah, we will.”

The furnace was turned up, not per your request but because Ben knew you ran especially cold now that you were pregnant, leaving you sufficiently warm as you watched him assemble the crib from the rocking chair. He had long shed his sweatshirt, which you had picked up and layered over your t-shirt.

Your phone was in your hand, one of your legs tucked underneath you as Ben focused on the instructions of the crib, his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth as you read through lists online. “What about Henry?” You asked, stroking your cheek contemplatively.

Ben’s nose wrinkled, his eyes skimming over the paper. “I don’t know if I love that one.”

Your eyes ran over the list, eyes squinting as you pursed your lips. “William?” You suggested, looking up to see his reaction. “We could call him Will.”

Hands grabbing at the slats he laid out, he shot you an apologetic look. “Maybe.”

Lips tugging into a smile, you allowed yourself a moment to look at him. His skin gleamed under the sunlight streaming in through the large window, blonde hair only brightened under the light. You felt a familiar roiling in your stomach, a smirk pulling at your lips.

“What?” He smiled.

Shrugging, you rested a hand on your bump and motioned to him. “You look good.”

With a confident smirk, he leaned back on his palm, abandoning the parts of the crib he had previously been working on. “Yeah? Is this doing something for you?”

With a soft laugh, the burning in the pit of your stomach only intensified. “A little,” you admitted. “To be fair, pretty much anything you do does something for me.”

The admission shocked Ben slightly, but a smirk quickly formed on his lips. He pushed himself off the floor to cross the nursery, his hands gripping the armrests of the rocking chair, leaning over you. Ben pressed his lips against yours, kissing you slowly. Your eyes fluttered closed, hands coming up to hold him in place as he kissed you. Sensing how eager you were, Ben pulled back slightly. “Don’t try to distract me,” he grinned.

You groaned, leaning in toward him again and whining when he pulled away. “You’re teasing.”

“You've been teasing for the past few months. It’s my turn,” he replied.

You gaped at him, pushing his shoulder gently. Ben laughed. “I have _not_!”

Ben’s shoulders shook with laughter as he pushed himself off the chair, sitting back on the floor amongst the parts of the crib. His hands made busy work of assembling the crib again. You groaned, slipping down in your chair.

“Ben…” you drawled, your lips pouting. Ben raised a brow at you. 

“Y/N…”

You rolled your eyes, sitting back in your seat and tuning out his laughter, continuing to scroll through names as he continued assembling the cribs. You sighed softly, considering the names on the list and pairing them with Ben’s last name.

“Anything good?” Ben asked, a smile still playing on his lips as he looked up at you quickly before turning it back down to his hands. 

You shrugged halfheartedly, your thumb stopping on your screen to look up at him. “What about Barrett?”

“Barrett’s good,” he nodded distractedly.

“Everett?” 

“I like Everett.”

“Emmett?”

“Does it have to end in an -ett?” He asked playfully, looking up to you again.

Your head tilted in annoyance, shooting Ben an irritated glance and pulling another chuckle from him. “If you have any ideas, I’m all ears, Jonesy.”

“If we’re sticking with your pattern, what about Beckett?”

Your eyes narrowed at him. “Shut up.”

Laughing loudly, Ben’s eyes widened in shock. “What?”

“How do you come up with a good name off the _top of your head_?”

He smiled sweetly. “Y’like that one?”

“Not as much as I like Emmett but sure,” you murmured. Ben shook his head, chuckling softly.

“What’s got you so grumpy?” He asked softly, eyes trained on his hands as he connected the walls of the crib. 

“What _doesn’t_ have me grumpy? I’m 29 weeks pregnant, my feet hurt, and you won’t kiss me,” you listed, glaring at him.

Without looking back at you, Ben continued to smile. “I’ll kiss you when this is finished.”

“Okay, but how long is that going to be, exactly?”

Ben laughed, standing on his knees to connect the four sides of the crib. “Look at it. It’s practically already done.” He shot you a cheesy grin. You stared back at him, trying to fight the smile that was slowly forcing its way on your lips, but you failed when he just lifted his brows higher and smiled wider.

“I’ll be waiting patiently.”

And you did. You sat and watched Ben, barely even speaking as he carefully finished assembling the crib. You hated to admit that the finished result was worth waiting for; Ben pushed the crib up against the wall, the white wood complementing the gray paint, shining proudly over at you.

Ben shot you a smile, looking between you and the crib as he crossed the room toward you, grabbing your hands and pulling you from the rocking chair. Your hand raised to cup his neck, your eyes still on the crib as he settled his hands on your hips. “It looks really nice, Ben,” you complimented, looking up to him with a grin on your face.

Ben smiled in thanks, leaning down to press his lips against yours gently. “Let’s leave it in here.”

You smiled at his insistence and allowed him to guide you out of the nursery. You and Ben walked slowly to your room, his lips pressing open-mouthed kisses along your neck as you shuffled along, making you giggle, your head automatically tilting to give him more access. Ben grinned against your skin, following you into the bedroom and beating you to the bed, sitting with his back against the headboard and motioning for you to join him.

All of this was so normal now. The climbing into his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck, and pressing your lips against his. He was used to that. What he _wasn’t_ used to was the way your hips rolled against his desperately. Your lips never faltered but Ben’s breathing stuttered, his grip on your hips tightening.

You could feel Ben growing aroused beneath you but he didn’t make the move, just kissing you deeply as he calmed his breathing. Determined, you continued grinding against Ben, your breath growing shallow as the heat in your stomach grew hotter. Ben pulled away, his breathing heavy as you carried your kisses across his jaw, down his neck. “Y/N,” he gasped out, his hips jerking up against yours.

“Hm?” You replied, your head falling back. You had been resigned to your hand since you had moved in with Ben, but it only did so much, and with him beneath you, you felt a pleasure stronger than you had in months.

“Are you—you’re good? With this?” He checked, desperately trying to keep himself from grinding you down on him.

“Please, Ben,” you breathed, your voice high as your eyes fluttered shut.

It was all the confirmation he needed before his hands were tugging at the hem of your sweatshirt, pulling both it and your t-shirt off in one smooth motion. Ben’s eyes darkened at the sight of you on his lap, your shirt thrown to the side. You were too far past being self-conscious, grinding shamelessly against him as he leaned forward to take your nipple in his mouth.

You let out a broken moan, your fingers twisting in his hair. “God, you look so fucking good,” Ben groaned, one hand remaining on your hips as the other settled on your stomach.

“Ben,” you whined, your head tilting back. “Need you.”

His hips lifted, making you moan loudly at the contact, before he pushed his sweats down quickly. “Get your pants off, baby,” he commanded, removing his shirt quickly. You complied, standing on your knees to push your pants down and rolling off Ben to force them off. 

Ben tried to roll over but you stopped him with a hand flat on his chest. Confused, he sat back where he was, watching you climb back on top of him. “Like this,” you breathed softly, settling in his lap again. You moaned at the skin-on-skin contact, wrapping your arms around his shoulders tightly and pressing your lips against his, your teeth catching his bottom lip.

“Shit,” he hissed, feeling your wetness against his skin. 

Without a second thought, you reached down and wrapped your fingers around his shaft, biting your lip and lining him up with your entrance. As you sunk down, the stretch made your jaw drop, your eyes fluttering shut. “Holy—oh my god,” you moaned, giving yourself a moment to adjust, your muscles fluttering around Ben as he moaned highly.

“I swear—“ he breathed, head dropping to the crook of your neck. “I’m not usually this needy.”

You let out an airy laugh in his hair, your breath catching in your throat. “It’s okay,” you breathed out, leaning back to look at him, your hands tilting his head back to look into his eyes. “I’m needy too.”

He grinned up at you, leaning up to kissing you hotly. You moaned, your hips beginning to move along with your lips, your hands still holding Ben’s head in place. “You’re fucking incredible,” he gaped, eyes hooded as he stared up at you. You bit your lip, your stomach turning at the compliment, but he didn’t stop. “God, you’re beautiful. Fuckin’ gorgeous, carrying my child. And you feel like _sin_ ,” he rambled, holding you tight against his chest.

“Ben,” you whined, rolling your hips desperately. There was something neither of you was saying, just on the tips of your tongues until you clenched around him.

“Holy _shit_ , Y/N,” he gasped, stars dancing around his eyes as you rode him. One of his hands dropped between you, two of his fingers pressing tight against your clit and your hips were stuttering again, chasing your high with as Ben's eyes fluttered closed, still holding you close.

One of your hands gripped his wrist, keeping his fingers in place as your rode him. Your thighs burned but stopping was no longer an option, your impending orgasm burning in the pit of your stomach. “Christ, Ben, you feel so fucking good,” you forced out, brows furrowing as you felt yourself on the edge. Months of bare-level stimulation had done nothing but leave you worked up at the smallest of touches, hurtling you toward your orgasm at an unbelievable speed.

Ben grunted, his jaw clenched as he desperately tried to keep himself from coming. He was just as blocked up as you; he hadn’t been with anyone since you, leaving seven months of tension hanging above his head. Determined to hold out until you came, Bens teeth gritted as he murmured, “Need you to come, Y/N. Can you do that, baby?”

His fingers rubbed tighter circles and your jaw dropped, fingers digging into his shoulders. You couldn’t even warn him as your orgasm crashed over you, your hips still rolling against Ben’s as you came with a weak cry of his name. Relieved and pent up, Ben followed soon after, clinging to you as you both panted.

“Jesus,” breathed Ben, unable to catch his breath.

“We’re definitely doing that again,” you decided, smiling at Ben’s thin laugh.

***

“It was…” You trailed off, biting your lip. “Really sweet. I feel like we’re finally where we need to be, you know?” You asked, a saccharine smile on your face as your hand settled on your bump, smiling at your friends.

In the bright cafe the four of you often frequented, you were much more cheerful than you had been in the past few months. Sated, secure, relaxed. You were happy. Jessie gave you a demure smile and Rylie nodded, but Sarah, the most important of them all, didn’t look in your direction, her face reflective as she avoided your eyes. 

Surprised, confused, your brows furrowed as you noticed the reactions of your friends, all slightly uninvested. “What? What’s happening?” You asked, your hand holding your bump securely in a subconscious effort to self-soothe.

Jessie winced slightly, averting eye contact, and Sarah finally looked at you, brows furrowed pensively as you looked between her and your other friends.

“We’re just a little worried.” She admitted quietly. 

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “What? Why?” The three fell silent, looking down to their plates as you looked frantically between them. “Worried about what? Ben?”

Rylie sighed, looking to Sarah quickly before she turned to you. “We just...think that maybe, you know, you and Ben are a little…” she trailed off, shrugging, but you raised your brows to urge her to continue.

“Clouded,” Jessie finished. “You know we love you both but we worry that you’re only getting together because of the baby.”

You frowned, face wrinkling in confusion as you opened your mouth to refute them, but Sarah beat you to the point. “You moved in together which was already a huge step, but then you were together, and now you’re sleeping together. It’s not something you can backtrack on. You’re just...I feel like you guys are moving really fast.”

You laughed nervously, looking between your friends. “That’s what happens when you have a baby with someone.”

“Y/N,” Rylie sighed, her eyes falling closed. 

You felt panic rising in your throat, jumping to defend Ben. “You guys were upset that we weren’t together and now you’re mad that we _are_ together?”

“That’s not it,” Jessie defended. “We love you and Ben, and we love you two together. We just want you to tread lightly. This thing with Ben is so new and we worry it’s just...maybe a little bit of a fantasy right now.”

Rylie threw her hands up in defense. “But we want you two together! Please don’t get us wrong. We do. We just want you to try to keep a close eye on the situation. Make sure you guys are being realistic.”

You were beginning to jump to Ben’s defense again when you paused. You were never the type to ignore your friend's opinions, _especially_ when it came to your relationships. If all of them were thinking the same thing, it must have had some merit. You would be lying if you said the thought hadn’t crossed your mind for a moment, but you’d been too awash in the domestic bliss you’d felt that you had pushed it from your mind the moment it entered.

As the three women around the table looked back at you, you focused on your hands, still protectively cradling your bump, your mind working in overdrive.

Your friends all frowned. From beside you, Jessie put a soothing hand on your thigh. “We don’t want to freak you out. Just...want you to be aware.” 

Before you could answer, your phone buzzed atop the table, lighting up with a text from the conversation topic of that morning’s brunch.

_**Benjamin:** Hey! I’m outside, whenever you’re ready :) _

_**Benjamin:** But the appointment starts in twenty minutes. Takes us ten to get there, so keep that in mind._

_**Benjamin:** Not that I’m rushing you. All on your time. Just a reminder. _

_**Benjamin:** I’m going to shut up now. _

Normally, you would have smiled, but you felt a sudden trepidation as you read his texts. Clearing your throat, you grabbed your phone and leaned down for your purse. “My doctors appointment starts soon and Ben’s outside. I’ll see you guys later, okay?”

With the mood shifted down, all three of your friends hugged you shyly as they said their goodbyes, smiling smally at you as you exited the cafe. 

You clambered in the car, accepting the kiss Ben offered you before he shut your door and ran back around to the driver’s side, still preoccupied with your friend's opinions as he rambled. 

“The pickup for the changing table was really weird but we’ve got it! I was thinking we could put it together when we get home.” He grinned, reaching across the center console for your hand. You smiled back, watching him drive. “Also, you guys took a little longer than I was expecting so I wandered around the store for a little while. Found a blanket for him, I think it’s really nice so I got that. I also found a new rocking chair that I think you’ll really like, but I didn’t want to buy it without you seeing it so I had them put it on hold. The old one isn’t very comfortable, I noticed,” he rambled, glancing at you as you stopped at a red light. Taking a breath, his smile only grew. “Geez, y’look even better than you did when I dropped you off.” He raised your hand to kiss your knuckles, looking back to the road. Offhandedly, he murmured, “Don’t even know how you do it.”

For the first time ever, Ben’s affection made your stomach twist in anxiety.


	8. It's True.

Sunlight filtered through the curtains in your bedroom, casting a celestial light over the bed. Your eyes opened to Ben, his nose wrinkling in his sleep as he breathed deeply, his fingers flexing slightly on your stomach. You closed your eyes again, sleep escaping you as you flipped on your side, Ben’s hand dragging to hold low on your hip. 

Thirty-two weeks. You could barely even process it; only eight weeks away from holding your son, having that baby in the nursery across the hall. The anticipation curling in your insides only added to the uneasiness settled low in your gut. You placed a gentle hand on your stomach and, as quietly as you could manage, slipped from beside Ben and left the door open behind you.

Milo slinked down the hall behind you, following you into the nursery. A sort of refuge, for all of you, it seemed. Frankie had curled up on the soft rug in the room, snoring quietly as you walked in. A small sigh fell from your lips as you settled in the rocking chair, the new, plush fabric admittedly much more comfortable than the old wooden chair you had previously kept in the room. It was one of Ben’s better decisions.

The nursery was close to being finished. You had insisted on holding off on finishing it until you had decided on a name, but that was all for decoration. You had what mattered. The crib, still pressed against the wall, sat under a mobile Ben had found, a mattress nestled easily in there, the new rocking chair and a couch beneath the window. The changing table had been stocked, the dresser full of clothes. Books and toys and blankets had been shelved in the closet, all gifts you had vehemently tried to deny. But you were ready. Just waiting on a name. You breathed out.

Aside from the fact you had reached your eighth month with no shortage of irritability, you had spent the past two weeks thinking of nothing but your doubts in your relationship. It wasn’t fair to Ben, especially not since you had been so short with him. It was an understatement to say that your friends had gotten into your head when it came to your relationship with Ben, leaving you anxious and angry. 

He had noticed. Ben leaned against the doorjamb on his shoulder, eyes clouded with sleep as he watched you, Milo in your lap and a hand on your stomach, eyes trained out the window as you spent your morning deep in thought. You and Ben had been attached at the hip for months, and your sudden withdrawal made every atom in his body yearn for you, his fingers twitching at his sides to reach out for you.

“We need to pick a name,” you broke the silence, surprising Ben. Frankie’s ears perked up at the interruption of her nap.

Ben nodded. “I like Emmett,” he said.

You snorted, just on the verge of humorless and shook your head. “I like Beckett.”

Quietly, as though he was afraid to step on toes, Ben asked, “Are you okay?”

You didn’t answer for a moment, your eyes still focused somewhere beyond the window, before you shrugged. “I’m scared.”

Ben took a step closer to you, kneeling beside the rocking chair and looking up at you. “Of what?”

It was such a loaded question that you almost scoffed, but you closed your eyes and leaned back. It wasn’t fair to keep Ben like this—wondering what he had done wrong and desperately trying to fix it. It wasn’t right. So, when you exhale, you began to release all your worries. “Everything. I’m scared to pick his name and I’m scared for labor and I’m scared that pretty soon you’re going to realize that you don’t even _want_ me, you just got wrapped into this because of one _stupid_ night, and I’m—”

“Wait, wait, wait, stop.” He commanded, standing up. His face was set in a hard stare, his jaw set and his brows furrowed. “You can’t possibly tell me that you’re still having doubts about how I feel about you,” he scoffed.

You felt anger rise in your stomach, a hard glare sent Ben’s way. “It’s hardly a conversation we’ve had, Ben,” you snapped. “Do you think saying that you want me is enough? Because it isn't. I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. I’m waiting for you to realize you don’t want this anymore.”

“What do you want me to say? Because I’ll say it. There is not a single thing I want more than you two. Can’t you see that? Can’t you see that you two are all that matter to me anymore? This is my life now. You two are my life.” Ben cried, his voice thin. “So what do you want? I’ll give it to you. I’ll give you anything and I’ll say anything, as long as it makes you happy.”

“That’s the problem!” You pushed yourself to stand, face to face with Ben. “We’ve been together for less than two months, Ben. You can’t just say those things to me!”

“Why not? It’s true.”

“Because this is all moving so _fast_.” You groaned.

“We’re having a _baby_ , of _course_ , it’s moving fast!” Ben snapped.

Milo and Frankie felt the tension rising, scampering out of the room together as you and Ben continued to bicker. “Doesn’t that scare you? Even a little? Everyone else is nervous, Ben, you seem to be the only one who’s fine with us moving at the speed of light.”

“Who gives a fuck what everyone else thinks, Y/N? It’s you and me. If you think we’re moving too fast, tell me, but don’t go around letting everyone else change the way you feel about me.”

You groaned, turning away from him. “Can we have this conversation later?” You huffed, walking down the hall.

Ben didn’t answer, stomping back to the bedroom and closing the door behind him. Making your way back to the kitchen, you sat at the counter, resting your head in your hands. You had imagined having this conversation a hundred times since your friend’s concerns had been brought to your attention, but it had never gone so poorly. Although, never in your imaginings of the conversation had you been so short with Ben. You sighed heavily, feeling the tears in your eyes as you sniffled once.

A heavy, dark feeling settled in your chest, regret weighing on your shoulders. You stood, holding your stomach as you began to make your way back to the bedroom to apologize to Ben, already hoping for the familiar comfort you felt when he held you in his arms. However, just as you turned the corner of the kitchen, you heard the front door open and click closed.

You felt your heart ache, not only in guilt but in loneliness. There was a lump in your throat as you held your bump in a weak attempt to self-soothe, forcing yourself to walk back to the bedroom. Ben had been nothing but perfect, so sweet and accommodating and so easily _Ben_ , because that was the way he was. And you had taken advantage of that.

As you got dressed, you took a deep breath. There was an appointment today.

No matter what, no matter the day or the stupid fight, you knew he would be there. After all, it was a rule.

***

“Is Ben coming?” Doctor Clare asked, preparing the ultrasound as your fingers twiddled nervously.

“I’m not sure,” you stammered. 

Without missing a beat, Doctor Clare nodded, urging you silently to lift up your shirt. “Okay, well, today we’re going to look at his growth, where he’s placed, pretty much what we’ve just been doing, okay?” 

You nodded, too distracted by your own thoughts to answer verbally. As though she could read your mind, she stayed silent, allowing you to ruminate as she spread the gel across your belly. 

You were shocked, too shocked to even allow yourself to feel your own emotions. He hadn’t come. It had never even crossed your mind that he wouldn’t come, but he wasn’t beside you like he had been consistently for the last eight months. Though you had felt defeated when you left the apartment for your appointment, you now felt anger boiling in the pit of your stomach. Not only had he left you without talking through your argument, but he hadn’t even been decent enough to show up, or send you a text. 

“Have you guys thought of names?” Doctor Clare asked, small talk to fill the staggeringly awkward silence.

Sniffling slightly, you nodded. “We like Beckett.”

She cooed, turning on the monitor as she looked at you. “Beckett Jones,” she tested the name, grinning over at you. “That’s really sweet. No middle name?”

You could tell she was trying to distract you from whatever it was that was bothering you but you couldn’t find it in yourself to deny her, allowing yourself to be distracted for a moment. “I think he’s stuck on Asher, but I like Spencer.”

She smiled over at you soothingly. “Spencer is my son’s name.”

“Ah!” You exclaimed easily. “Then I’m going to tell him you’re taking my side.”

She laughed, nodding softly. “If that’s what you got from that, then okay.” She looked up at you. “Now, let’s see what this boy is up to.”

You checked your phone quickly, confirmation that you hadn’t missed a text from Ben, but your lock screen was clear, no unopened notifications. Your jaw set, dropping your phone back into your purse. Turning back to the doctor, you plastered on a smile. “Yeah, let’s.”

***

Slamming the door behind you, you threw your keys in the catch bowl beside the door, kicking off your shoes. You knew he wasn’t here. Knowing Ben, he would feel far too guilty to come home immediately. He would bide his time coming up with a plan to win your forgiveness. You wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt; you wanted to believe that he had forgotten the appointment after that morning’s incidents. But it wasn’t him. Ben had consistently been more excited for appointments than you had your whole pregnancy. It was written in his calendar, reserved several reminders in his phone, plans cancelled for and centered around the appointments. You could hardly believe he wouldn’t come—not because of your fight, but because he genuinely loved going. 

You stomped down the hall, toward the linen closet. As you stacked sheets and an extra quilt in your arms, you only found your fury growing.

Fucking _Ben_. You had shifted your whole life for him—moving into his apartment, into his bedroom. Falling in love with his stupidly sweet smile and his seemingly perfect persona, only for it to fall apart at the seams with one ridiculous disagreement. You made your way to the nursery, too angry to even mentally applaud Ben for the pullout couch, and by the time you had finished making the bed, you were fuming all over again. 

The orange sunlight shaded the whole room in a warmth you’d lacked all day and you took a wistful moment to think of where you’d been when the same sun had risen—in Ben’s arms, warm in bed and still on speaking terms. Now, as the sun set, you changed into your pajamas and climbed into the freshly-made pullout couch alone. As you glanced at your phone, looking for yet another missing text from Ben, you noticed it was only seven o’clock, but your eyes began to drift closed under the weight of the day’s stress.

When you woke again, it was dark and you were slightly confused, not where you usually drifted awake in the middle of the night, but you were comforted by the familiar scent of Ben, musky from his faded cologne and the freshness of the laundry detergent you had used on his clothes.

Immediately, though you hadn’t opened your eyes, you felt Ben. Then you felt that sick, hot anger burning up your insides. You stayed silent, trying not to alert him of your consciousness. The familiar feeling of Ben’s fingertips sliding into your hair, not running through but rather electing to hold still, immediately made your muscles relax despite yourself.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice thin. There was a moment of silence, where you struggled to sit still, before he sighed softly. “I know you’re awake.”

Your jaw set and you pulled away from his touch. “I don’t want to talk to you right now,” you snapped, your voice thick from sleep, scooting a little further away from him. Behind you, the bed creaked slightly as Ben leaned closer to you, his palm flat against the mattress to hold himself up. 

“You don’t have to talk. I just want to say something.” When you didn’t protest, he continued, “God, Y/N. I’m so sorry. For all of it. For not listening to you and for leaving and missing the appointment and not even saying a word. I’m so sorry. I don’t even know what to say.” He sniffled.

Your eyes opened and they burned with heavy, wet tears. Sitting up, you turned to Ben. With tears glistening in your eyes, you saw Ben falter at the sight of you and your brow furrowed. “Why didn’t you go?”

His eyes, sad and bright under the silver moonlight covering the room, watched you as his mouth opened and closed again. Finally, he said, “I wanted to give you space.”

Too tired of anger, you rolled your eyes, wiping your tears away. “I didn’t want space, Ben. I wanted _you_. And you weren’t there.”

Tears filled Ben’s eyes to match yours and he reached out for you, desperate to comfort you as you cried. You pushed his hand away and turned away from him again, laying back down with your back turned to him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again. Closing your eyes, you tried to will your tears away as you shook your head against the pillow.

“Just go.”

You heard him take in a shuddering breath, withdrawing his hand. “Please just come to bed. I won’t even touch you.”

Tears flowing easily down your cheeks now, you bit the inside of your cheek and forced yourself not to sniffle. Still, your voice was watery when you said, “Please just _go_ , Ben.”

After a moment of hesitation, he listened.

***

The following morning, the few seconds of blissful ignorance free waking crashing down over you in the uncomfortable bed of the pullout couch. Your back ached, another pain on top of the rest of your anxieties. You could hear Ben puttering around outside, moving around the bedroom and pans banging in the kitchen and light footsteps lingering just outside the closed door keeping you from him.

None of it felt right. Not even just waking in the nursery, but waking without Ben. Knowing he was here, just outside your door but still outside reaching distance, it made you ache. Briefly, you wondered how long you could stay where you were, but the baby elbowed into your bladder roughly, forcefully making the decision for you—you were leaving the nursery, Ben or no Ben.

You swung your legs over the side of the bed and, after a slight struggle to get out of bed, you crossed the room and swung the door open. Thankfully, you didn’t run into Ben on your way, and you hadn’t heard footsteps up and down the hallway, so you allowed yourself to get ready, brushing your teeth and throwing your hair up and making yourself slightly presentable for your inevitable run-in with Ben. 

But you don’t see him in the hall, or when you peeked into your bedroom, and you didn’t hear him in the kitchen. Furrowing your brows, you returned to the nursery to find him sitting in the rocking chair, his hair tousled as he waited patiently for you. 

You were ready for him. Not for the conversation, but for him to hold you close again, to kiss you and to keep you calm. So you sat across from him, your legs folded as you sat on the edge of the bed and looked back at him. 

There was a thick moment of silence before Ben sighed. “Christ, I don’t even know what to say.”

“You were right.” You said weakly. “About not letting anyone else change my feelings. They don’t matter in this. It’s us. And the baby. And _we_ are who matter.”

“I was wrong about everything else. I should have listened to you, Y/N. And I’m so fucking angry at myself for missing the appointment. And for not even saying anything to you. I’m so sorry.” He pushed himself out of the chair, kneeling before you and taking your hands in his. “I’m sorry. There’s nothing else I could even say.”

“I’m sorry too.” You breathed.

He shook his head, pressing your knuckles to his lips. “Don’t be. Please. I’m sorry.”

Ben leaned up to kiss you and you melted into him, cupping his cheeks. And you felt whole again.

Pulling away slightly, you sniffled quietly. “I think Doctor Clare thinks we’re naming the baby Beckett.”

Ben just laughed. 

***

You cooed quietly, hands clasped over your chest as you looked at the gray walls, perfectly decorated. Framed pictures covered the walls of the room, some of your friends and family, but mostly of you and Ben, smiling and sweet and exactly the way you wanted your baby to know you: happy. 

And above the crib, in wooden letters, was his name. You had known that Ben’s name would be the one being chosen, but it felt so perfect that you couldn’t even find it in yourself to playfully jab at him. Beckett. You couldn’t have thought of anything better.

Bens arms wrapped around your belly, hands pressed over your bellybutton as you sighed in content. As you covered your hands with his, he pressed a sweet kiss underneath your ear. “It turned out perfect,” he murmured, his voice vibrating down your neck. You leaned back into him, sighing contentedly.

“All thanks to you,” you complimented softly, your hand rubbing the back of his. 

Ben nuzzled his nose against your ear, a sense of serenity settling over him. Quietly, with a small smile on his face, he said, “I love it,” he nodded, his chin on your shoulder. “And I love you.”

You jolted, surprise and excitement coursing through your veins. Abruptly, your head turned to look at him. “What?”

Without an ounce of fear in his voice, Ben shrugged and continued. “I do. You’re it for me, Y/N. I’ve known it for years. And you don’t have to say it back, but it’s true. I don’t care if it’s too fast. If anything, I regret not saying it sooner.”

You didn’t care either. 

Turning in his arms, you cupped his cheeks and kissed him softly, a heavy tranquility waving over you as well. Pulling back slightly, you grinned. “I love you.” In the middle of the nursery, your belly pressed against Ben’s as he held you as tightly as he could, everything felt perfect again.


	9. Ready for Him.

“Hey, Ben?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you but if you keep staring at me, I might snap.”

He just sniggered, the air tickling your neck as you leaned back into his chest. Both of his hands rested on your belly, his back pressed into the arm of the couch. “Can’t help myself, love. Hard to take my eyes off you.” He murmured, his nose brushing your cheek.

Pouting, your nose wrinkled, annoyed at him for distracting you from the TV. You had wanted to savor the last few weeks of it being just you two, but you had found it increasingly difficult to handle Ben’s affection, your growing belly only agitating you. “Hey, don’t go sweet on me, Jones. If you distract me from New Girl one more time, I’ll ban you from the delivery room.”

“You couldn’t keep me out if you tried,” he hummed, kissing your shoulder before turning back to the television. You leaned back into him, sighing lowly. All affection was on your terms since you had been so irritable in the past few weeks, which he was fine with, but he had grown increasingly touchy in just the few days prior, leaving you only slightly more grumpy.

There was nothing left to do. The nursery was finished, the apartment cleared of every last speck of dust. You were stocked and prepared and, on paper, you were ready. But as Ben’s hands stroked your bump absentmindedly, you felt that familiar rolling of anxiety in your stomach.

Things were going perfectly, not just with Ben but with Beckett, too. The baby was healthy but the due date looming just ahead made you want to throw up. And Ben, so comforting and sweet, was only growing more affectionate. It soothed your anxieties if only for a moment, a happy distraction, no matter how agitated it may have made you.

You felt your eyelids grow heavy, your head lolling as you sunk further down, resting your head on Ben’s chest. He hummed contentedly, pressing a kiss to your hair as you turned your head to look up at him. His lips quirked up in the corner, eyes flicking down to you. “Who’s staring now?”

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “I’m allowed to stare.”

“Oh?” He chuckled, looking down at you fully. In the bright spring sunshine cast over the room, Ben’s green eyes looked clear and bright when you stared back up at him. “What’s the matter, darling?” He asked quietly, brow furrowing just slightly as he brushed your hair from your forehead. You thought back to when he had done the same thing as you cuddled on the couch just a few months before, before you and Ben were even together. The thought made you smile smally.

“Just thinking,” you brushed him off, a small smile playing on your lips as you pushed away your anxiety. 

“About?” He pushed, raising a curious brow as he rubbed a soothing hand over your stomach.

You sighed, leaning further back into him. “About how exhausted I am, since your kid won’t let me sleep,” you grumbled, ignoring his rumbling laugh against your back.

“Already an athlete,” Ben excused.

“He can barely move in there, but somehow he’s finding a way.”

Ben hummed, pressing a kiss to your hair. “He’s not moving now. Why don’t you take a nap, love?”

You hummed in reply, trying to get comfortable against him as you closed your eyes. “Yeah,” you murmured. “Think I might.”

And you do. It was the most peaceful sleep you’d gotten in weeks and, you feared, the most you would get for a couple of months. Ben stayed right where he was for fear of you waking, and when you did finally open your eyes, his were already on you, smiling softly while he watched you wake.

“Oh, my god,” you laughed tiredly, nuzzling into his chest with a content sigh. “Your staring is getting out of hand.”

“You are enchanting.”

“I am a fat, sweaty mess.”

“I love that about you.” He returned, smiling at your giggle.

“Better soak it in now,” you suggested. “I will be considerably less of both of those things in a few weeks.”

Ben grinned at the thought. “We’re going to have a baby in a few weeks.”

Despite your anxiety, you smiled too. “Yeah,” you said softly.

He knew you more than you liked to admit, because he ran a soothing hand up your arm, kissing your hair once again. “What’re you worried about?”

Surprised by his intuitivity, you huffed slightly. “Don’t read me.”

“Don’t make it so easy,” he retorted quickly, smiling down at you. Pausing, you tried desperately to gather your thoughts but Ben beat you to the punch when he said, “If you’re worried about giving birth, let’s not forget that you requested an ‘astronomical amount of drugs,’” he quoted playfully, making you chuckle softly. “Beckett’s been perfect so far. Have a little faith in our boy,” he teased.

You smiled. “It’s a mother’s instinct to worry, Benjamin.”

“Well, try not to. I have nothing but faith in you both.” He murmured, squeezing you softly. “What else?”

“We don’t know how to be parents.” You reminded him, entwining your fingers with his.

He raised his hand to press a kiss to your knuckles. “No, we don’t. But we’ll figure it out.”

“But what if we don’t?”

“Have you met us? If we figured out how to get along while you were pregnant, keep our nosy friends out of our business, and move in together, we can figure out how to raise a baby.” He reasoned.

You smiled smally, your eyes trained on the sky outside the window as Ben played with your fingers. “Yeah.”

“The fact that you could ever doubt yourself as a mother when you already love him more than anything is insane,” he murmured, closing his eyes and dropping his head into the crook of your neck. He breathed you in and you hummed, wishing there were any way to hold him even closer, until you two were completely inseparable. When he whispered, “I love you. So, so much,” you thought maybe you already were.

***

“Two weeks. _Two_!” Riley squealed, leaning further into Harry’s side. Around the table, all your friends were chattering brightly, and you felt Ben’s chest rumble with a laugh as you smiled.

With an arm over your shoulder, you tucked into his side, Ben’s fingers brushed over your bare shoulder as you picked at your lunch. “Trust me, we know. We’ve been caught between counting down the days and hoping he stays in there as long as possible,” Ben remarked. Smith clapped him on the back, slightly jostling you and making you chuckle, shaking your head as Ben chortled at the force.

“That’s a lucky kid,” he affirmed, nodding to you and Ben. “Got the two greatest people in the world to take care of him.” 

Your brows furrowed, surprised by his moment of sincerity. “That’s really sweet, Smith. Thank you,” you cooed.

“Not to mention, he’s got no chance of coming out ugly.”

You snorted, nodding. That sounded more like him. The table was only slightly disruptive as you all laughed at him, the eight of you looking between one another. It was bittersweet, one of the last outings, just the eight of you. Not too far down the line, there would be a little baby carrier beside you, a ninth member of the ensemble. It made your heart race, less in anxiety and more in excitement, and one glance at Ben told you that he was thinking the same thing.

“God, I’m ready for someone new around here,” Sarah teased, rolling her eyes. “Beckett is going to be my new best friend.”

You scoffed. “Back off, he’s ours.”

“Fuck you guys, you’ve been hanging out with him for nine months, it’s my turn.” Her words made your friends laugh again, attracting the attention of others in the restaurant, making you giggle again. You and Ben shared another look and you softened, lips upturned in a loving smile as he squeezed your shoulders, smiling back before looking back to your friends. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Mark scoffed, holding a hand up to Sarah. “I already called dibs on the best friend. He was conceived at my birthday party.”

“Let’s not talk about my baby’s conception over lunch, yeah?” Ben pleaded, shaking his head.

“I’m just saying.” Mark's hands went up in surrender as he leaned back into his chair.

“I don’t care about being his best friend as long as I’m his godmother,” Rylie shrugged. Your friends all cried out in dissent, arguing over each other. You felt the baby jump at the sudden burst of sound, making you laugh and rest a hand on your stomach, rubbing small circles over the bump. Ben smiled, rubbing your shoulder smoothly. 

“I’d settle for Aunt Jessie,” your friend smiled into her coffee, looking up at you and Ben easily. You grinned.

“Yeah, Uncle Harry I could live with.” Harry teased.

“Fuck off. That kid wouldn’t be calling me Uncle Smith if both our lives depended on it.” Smith laughed, making you scoff.

“I’d expect nothing less of you,” Ben chuckled, shaking his head. He turned to look at you, smiling smally.

“Hey, I get that Y/N is like, glowing or whatever,” Rylie joked, “but when are you going to pay attention to the rest of us, Ben?”

You laughed, patting his thigh. “Trust me, I’ve been teasing him about it for a couple weeks already.”

“I mean, Christ, Ben, we thought you were moon-eyed over Y/N before, but look at you now,” Sarah hummed, pushing her food around her plate as she smiled at the two of you.

“Can’t help it,” Ben smiled, a tendril of your hair being wrapped around one of his fingers. “Looks more beautiful carrying my child than she ever has, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely stop that.” You laughed, elbowing his side softly.

“You just think she’s prettier because she isn’t glaring at you anymore,” Mark teased, kicking your shin softly under the table with a wink.

“Still a lot of glaring,” Ben pushed back, rolling her eyes.

“Lots of love in the glares now, though,” you smiled up at him. 

“Gross.” Someone gagged. You and Ben both laughed.

***

“Hey, buddy,” Ben whispered, pressing an easy kiss to your bare stomach as you read a book, smiling down at him. With his head in your lap, he hardly even looked back at you as he continued speaking. “We know you like it in there—it’s the only place you’ve known—but we’re getting really anxious to meet you out here. No rush.”

“You’re pressuring him,” you teased, running your fingers through Ben’s hair as he smiled up at you.

“Your mum is nervous to meet you. She thinks you won’t think she’s funny.”

You pouted and looked down at your belly. The summer had come in easily, which gave both you and Ben an excuse to forego shirts, leaving you in just a sports bra, your stomach exposed. “That’s not true, Beck. You already know I’m the funny parent, huh?” You asked.

Ben scoffed playfully. “Yeah, right. She might be the beauty of this operation but I’m the brains.”

“Your dad is delusional,” you murmured with a laugh, looking back to your book with no intention of reading.

Ben used your apparent disinterest to talk to Beckett again, one of his fingers drawing mindless patterns on your lower belly. “Been waiting too long for you. I’m ready for you to be here,” he hummed, closing his eyes. Your fingers continued to run through his hair, listening to him talk to your baby. You felt his eyelashes flutter against your thigh and smiled smally behind your book. “I owe you a lot, bud. You brought me your mum. You made us a family,” he whispered, the tip of his finger drawing a small heart. Still hidden behind your book, you bit your lip, trying to stay silent to keep him talking. “And I can’t wait to see you. Hope you have her eyes.”

“But your dad’s nose,” you interjected, moving your book to look at him. 

Ben grinned up at you, shaking his head before kissing your stomach again quickly. “Love you, Beck.” He hummed, before sitting up and pressing a kiss to your lips. “And I love you too.”

You smiled, stroking his cheek. “I love you.”

Ben fell to lay on his pillow, a goofy smile still on his face. “Two and a half weeks.” He reminded.

You turned the page of your book, the corner of your lip turning up. “I know.”

“How are you feeling?” He asked softly, reaching for one of your hands. 

You allowed him to take it, setting your book down and looking into his earnest eyes, a strong urge to hold him overtaking you. Moving to lay on your side, your fingers still entwined, you stared at Ben, taking in his appearance blissfully. “Ready.”

“You’re ready?” He asked, shocked. “You went from petrified to ready in two weeks?”

As best as you could, you shrugged. “I’ve waited eight and a half months for him. I don’t want to wait anymore.” You smiled smally. “Also, I’m ready to sleep again.”

Ben chuckled, bringing your knuckles up to his lips to kiss them chastely. “I’m ready for him too.” He nodded, scooting closer to you. “Ready for our family to grow.”

You grinned widely, reaching behind you to turn the lamp off before curling up against Ben. “Me too.”

***

Annoyed, you flopped onto the couch. It was hot. And you were meant to have a baby by now.

Ben doted on you without complaint. Anywhere from putting on your shoes to bringing you an endless amount of snacks, Ben had started doing things for you with you even asking. You were beginning to think that he actually enjoyed doing it, _especially_ when you asked. In fact, as you pouted in the living room, you could hear him on the phone in the kitchen, talking to the doctor per your request.

To be fair, you weren’t even _that_ far past your due date. You were, however, suffering from reduced movement, agitation, and restlessness. Five days past your due date wasn’t too late, but you weren’t sure you could handle being pregnant for another second, and your heart ached for Ben, who listened to you whine and took your mood swings happily, waiting on you hand and foot without even a second word. 

“Doctor Clare? Hi,” he greeted. You sighed in relief, rubbing your stomach in an effort to self-soothe. “Yeah, she’s getting a little restless.” There was a pause. “Five days.” He lowered his voice as he mumbled something, no doubt about your mood swings before he paused again. “Yeah, give me a second.”

Ben travelled to the living room, looking at you sympathetically as he dropped beside you and put the phone on speaker. Taking the silent cue, you sighed softly and rubbed your temple as you said, “Hi, Doctor Clare,” you greeted tiredly.

“Hey, Y/N. Heard you were getting a little sick of being pregnant.”

You laughed quietly. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“Well, we had a surprise baby born yesterday,” she hummed, making you roll your eyes as Ben snickered quietly, “which means we have an open induction appointment on Thursday.” That made you perk up, looking at Ben with wide eyes.

“That soon?” You asked hopefully, sitting up slightly.

“That soon,” she confirmed. You moaned in relief. Thursday. You could have made it two days. “Now, have you tried inducing labor on your own?”

“We’ve done what we can,” Ben nodded despite the fact that she couldn’t see you. “Lots of walking, lots of spicy foods, lots of—” he cuts himself off, looking at you before you rolled your eyes.

“Sex.” You finished for him irritably. “Lots of sex.”

The doctor laughed quietly. “If that isn’t working, then I don’t see why we can’t induce you. It’s a little earlier than we usually would do it, but if you’re as miserable as Ben is making you sound, then we had better have this baby.”

“Oh, my god,” you breathed out, your skin prickling with relief. “Doctor Clare, you’re a lifesaver.” 

She chuckled again. “Obviously, there’s a little bit of red tape to cut through, so I’ll put you guys down for Thursday, but you’ll need to call and confirm it, probably tomorrow morning, and you should get all the information in that phone call.”

And just like that, you were having a baby.

***

Your breathing was heavy as you held Ben’s hand. “Does it hurt?”

“Babe, I cannot feel a thing,” you laughed breathlessly, your head lolling to look at him. Thursday night had faded into Friday morning with no work to be done on your part. You could feel his panic, even through his soothing actions. “Hey, relax. We’re fine, okay?”

He laughed nervously, shaking his head. “How are you in labor and _I’m_ the one that needs comforting?”

You giggled, shaking your head back at him. “I’m numb from the belly-button down, Ben. I’m fine. Beckett’s fine. You will be _fine_.”

He rolled his eyes, running his hands over his face. “I feel like a prick. I’m not the one who’s about to push a baby out of their body.”

“I should hope not.”

He gave you an unamused glance and you reached for his hand. “Hey, I love you. Send Sarah in here and go get some breakfast.”

He frowned, shaking his head. “No, I’m staying here.”

“Honestly, you need to eat soon or your attitude is going to surpass mine. We have time. _Go_.” You pushed, raising a challenging brow.

Sighing, Ben pressed a kiss to your hair before he retreated from the room, making you sigh in relief. He had practically been pulling his own hair out since the initial phone call with the doctor, his anxiety shooting through the roof as yours had fully subsided. Ben had lost every last ounce of his cool under pressure, leaving _you_ to comfort him.

There was a soft knock on the door before Sarah poked her head in, smiling excitedly. “D-day,” she sang quietly, making you laugh. “How do you feel?”

“Better than Ben,” you joked. 

She chuckled softly, sitting at your bedside and chewing on a few of the ice chips in the cup you had been provided. “Yeah, he is,” she paused, shaking her head. “not doing great, I noticed.”

You rolled your eyes. “He’s definitely anxious.” You nodded, a small laugh rumbling in your chest. “Who else is here?”

“Rylie is, but she went with Ben to the cafeteria. Jessie and Smith are on their way, and Harry and Mark are coming after they get off work.” She rambled, her eyes focused on the monitor you were hooked to.

You followed her eyes, watching the screen and sighing slightly, watching Beckett’s heartbeat with a small smile. “Weird, right?”

“What, that you’re having a baby right now? Nah, totally normal Friday.” She joked, resting her elbows on your mattress. “How close are you?”

You shrugged. “I was eight and a half centimeters dilated an hour ago. Hopefully, we’ll have a baby within a few hours.” You answered quietly, a grin stretching across your face at the prospect.

“Baby Jones,” she cooed smally. “I’m ready for him.”

Turning to her, you reached for her hand. “So am I.” Ben slipped into the room alongside the doctor, waving a wrapped sandwich in the air as you groaned in relief. “Thank god. You going to lose the attitude now?”

He laughed sarcastically, sitting in the chair beside Sarah’s. “Yes,” he hummed, unwrapping the sandwich.

Doctor Clare sat on the stool, glancing at your chart. “Alright, Y/N, we’re going to check your dilation again.” She informed, sending you a confirmation glance.

You nodded, giggling as Ben chewed loudly beside you, faintly hearing Doctor Clare’s gloves snap on. “Feeling better?” You asked softly, reaching for his hand. He nodded slowly, smiling at you with a full mouth. You laughed again, glancing down at the doctor. “How’s it going down there?”

She laughed, shooting you a bright smile. “You’re just over nine centimeters. I’d say we’ll be having this baby pretty soon.”

You felt Ben squeeze your hand, his eyes wide in surprise and you grinned back at her excitedly. You thought back to the day you had called Ben to inform him of your pregnancy and you can’t help but kiss his knuckles. It felt like a lifetime ago, you hating Ben. You had adored him almost the second you opened your heart to him, and had fallen in love with him as soon as you let yourself, and now you were having his child. You felt tears rush to your eyes, sighing softly.

Doctor Clare smiling comfortingly up at you. “I’ll check on you in a few minutes, okay?” 

You sniffled, nodding. Sarah smiled softly at you, slipping out of the room behind the doctor as you pressed your forehead to Ben’s, his awestruck eyes taking in every detail of your face. “We’re having a baby,” you breathed.

“What do you think we’ve been doing for the last nine months?” He teased, forcing a watery laugh out of you. 

“Shut up,” you laughed quietly. 

Ben kissed you softly, nuzzling your nose with his as he pulled away. “I love you,” he whispered.

And, for probably the thousandth time in the last few months, you thanked god for giving Ben to you.


	10. One Day.

"As far as I can see, this is heaven,” Ben sang quietly, the moonlight lighting up the dark room as he swayed back and forth. He could see you from the corner of his eye, leaning against the door frame silently as his hand rubbed soothing circles against a sleeping Beckett’s back. He turned slowly, his head tilted in adoration at the sight of you, still half asleep. “And speaking just for me,” he continued lowly, “it’s ours to share.”

You smiled sleepily, crossing the room at the request of his open arm. Holding Beckett to his chest with one hand, the other wrapped around your shoulders, holding you close as he continued to sway. His humming reverberated through his chest, keeping the baby asleep and soothing you as you pressed your ear against the thin t-shirt he wore, closing your eyes and wrapping your arm around him, the other touching Beckett’s back protectively.

Two days at home and Beckett had managed to sleep all the way through both nights, unlike you and Ben. You’d been too entranced by your boy, sitting together on the sofa in the nursery just to watch him, to listen to him. It was contentment unlike any you had ever felt, just to have him in your sight, to know he was yours. 

“You should get some sleep,” you murmured against his chest, eyes closed, wishing to keep the moment with you for the rest of your life.

“Just want another minute with him,” Ben sighed, pressing his cheek gently against the top of Beckett’s head.

“We have forever with him,” you reminded him, opening your eyes to look up at him. His lips upturned in a small smile.

“Doesn’t feel like enough.”

Your hand ran up and down his back, eyes soft as you smiled warmly up at him. “I know.”

So you closed your eyes again and leaned into Ben, swaying with him as you listened to your son breathe together, holding each other and him. Your heart felt so full that it would have made you hurt had you not been so happy. Not even your lack of decent sleep could make your mood suffer; you were perfectly at ease, so comfortable in your current situation that you could have lived like that for a hundred more years. Milo rubbed against your legs and you smiled, your eyes still closed.

Beckett sneezed, high and quick, and Ben felt your lips upturn against his chest, a small smile growing on his own face. The baby began to fuss, his face wrinkling with distaste as he began to cry. Sighing smally, you pulled away from Ben. “Beck,” you cooed quietly.

“Want to see your mum?” Ben asked, adjusting his grip on the baby to pass him to you. 

You hummed, holding Beckett to your chest as you rocked him back and forth. “Hi, buddy,” you said softly, rubbing his back and pressing a gentle kiss to his head, closing your eyes as you swayed with him. “What’s wrong?”

Ben smiled, pulling out the bed on the couch, making you laugh softly. He hooked a thumb toward the door, backing out as you continued to soothe your son. He had eaten not an hour before and Ben had changed his diaper the moment he’d picked him up from the crib, leaving him nearly perfectly content. Just startled. 

By the time Ben came back from your bedroom, carrying your duvet and pillows, you were gently placing Beckett back into his crib, his fresh face resembling Ben’s as he slept, perfectly relaxed. You smiled down at him as Ben made up the sofa bed, trailing a finger across his smooth cheek.

“Come to bed, love,” Ben urged, a playful lilt in his voice.

You laughed softly, turning around to see him pulling back the rumpled duvet. “Is this our bed now?” You asked, crossing the room to crawl in bed, curling up to your boyfriend as he wrapped his arms around you.

“It may as well be,” he hummed quietly, nuzzling a nose across your hairline, breathing you in. After a moment of silence, where you coasted along the edge of falling asleep, still half-conscious, he whispered, “Thank you.”

“For what?” You asked lowly, one of your hands sliding across his body to entwine your fingers with his.

“For this. Beckett. Being you.”

You looked up at him, your lips brushing his as you smiled softly. “You two are my everything.”

And you both fall asleep, three hearts beating in the same room.

***  
_**The Parenting Plan  
1\. Y/N and Ben will always support Beckett and one another, even if they don’t agree.  
2\. Ben will teach Y/N how to swaddle a baby.  
3\. Smith is not, under any circumstances, to be with Beckett alone. Ever.  
4\. Ben and Y/N will share work equally.  
5\. Ben will stop saying he’s the funnier parent because it isn’t true.  
6\. Ben and Y/N will stop sleeping in Beckett’s room. Eventually.**_

“Are we going to make lists for every big step in our life?” Ben asked, laughing softly as he pressed a kiss to your hair. Beckett slept soundly in the rocker in the living room, Frankie beside him, quiet music playing in the apartment as you giggled. 

“ _Our life_?” You teased.

Ben flushed, rubbing the back of his neck as he stammered. “I just figured, you know...with Beckett. And we’re together and we’re living together. Isn’t this what people who share their lives do? I mean, aren’t we—“ you covered his mouth with your hand, grinning widely. He still got so nervous around you; it made you giddy like a teenager.

“It is our life. Together.” You confirmed. “A relationship and a baby and an apartment. We’re in an adult relationship.” You smiled. You could feel him smile too, 

Against your hand, he said, “We’re grown-ups.” 

You laughed, careful to be quiet with the sleeping baby. “We’ve _been_ grown-ups.” You reminded, uncovering his mouth.

“Yeah, but now we’re grown-ups in love. And we’re parents.” 

The thrill of the words—both of them, love and parents—never seemed to wear off, and you delighted in it. “It’s better than I thought it would be.” 

“Infinitely,” he agreed, wrapping an arm around your waist and kissing you softly. “All of it. Better than any fantasy I’ve ever had.”

“You fantasized about this?” You asked quietly, your noses brushing one another as you looked up at him.

“Are you kidding? Thought about us, like this, almost every day for years. I fantasized about this and so much more. This is only the tip of the iceberg.”

You pushed yourself up to sit on the counter, Ben fitting himself between your knees. His hands fell to rest on your sweatpant-clad thighs and you smiled down at him, fingers playing in the shorts hairs on his neck as you asked, “What else?”

“What else what?”

“What else did you fantasize about?” You pushed softly, one of your hands sliding down to scratch his shoulder soothingly. 

He flushed again, pink painting his cheeks as he looked away from you and laughed nervously. “I don’t know, Y/N, it was just—“

“Please?” You asked softly, your brows furrowed in understanding in the way you knew made him weak. He sighed, squeezing your thighs slightly as you smiled reassuringly down at him.

“I mean, we won’t live in this apartment one day, obviously. Thought about us in a house, a nice one, in the suburbs. Not too fancy, but a place where we don’t have to worry about the kids playing outside.” He thought aloud.

“Kids, plural?”

He shrugged. “If you want, obviously. But I would like Beckett to have siblings. One day.”

“I’d like that too,” you agreed warmly.

“And we’d get married, one day. Something intimate, with just our friends and families. And Beckett will be the ring bearer, if he’s old enough. I think it would only be right to have him involved.” He rambled. You leaned forward, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and burrowing your face in the crook of his neck. 

“Keep going,” you begged.

“I just think about the small things. Vacations and birthday parties and the holidays. Us spending time together. I think about waking up next to you and getting our kids ready for school. Going to football games and piano recitals and teaching them how to ride their bikes.”

You smiled into his neck, your heart racing as you listened to him. “Just us,” he finally said. “I think about us and the life we could build together.”

You lifted your head and pressed your lips against Ben’s, long and slow and sweet, taking your time to appreciate him. “I think the sound of that,” you said to him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I cannot wait to build a life with you, Ben Jones.”

He grinned. “You already have, my love.”

***

Before getting pregnant, you had severely underappreciated sleeping on your stomach, but not anymore. It was part of the reason that Ben pressing kisses to your bare shoulder only served to annoy you as it pulled you from your sleep. Grunting, you rolled away from him, but he persisted, following you even as you turned away.

“Leave me alone,” you slurred tiredly.

Ben chuckled lightly against your skin. “Let me love on you while we have time.”

You rolled your eyes, though they were barely open. “Beckett sleeps 16 hours a day, Ben. All we have is time.”

“He’s due to wake up soon,” Ben murmured.

“Then let me sleep,” you whined, turning around to face him, wrapping your arms around his waist. You hummed at his body heat, your eyes still closed.

“I’ll get you sometime soon.”

You laughed tiredly, looking up to him as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “Give it four weeks.”

Ben scoffed. “Easy.”

You cracked open an eye to look at him. “You’re going to make it four weeks?”

“I waited forever for you to even see me. I can wait four weeks,” he gave you a knowing look, chin tilted down. “Besides, I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

You frowned, kissing his chest once before you pressed your cheek against it. “M’sorry. For never giving you a chance.”

He smiled smally, brushing some hair behind your ear. “You did give me a chance.”

“How long did that take?” You asked sarcastically. Ben cupped your cheek, silent. “Thanks for loving me.”

“Thanks for letting me,” he returned easily, his lips upturned at the corner. Your heart raced at the sight, wondering how you had ignored him for so long. Ben was your other half and you had almost missed him—it was hard to imagine your life without him, and now without Beckett. The drunken mistake you had made, the same one you had cursed Ben for, was now the best thing that had ever happened to you. Ben and your baby were no longer collateral damage, they were your life. “Thanks for the baby.”

You snorted, resting your forehead against his chest as it rumbled with a laugh. “You’re welcome,” you said.

Over the baby monitor, you heard Beckett begin to fuss and you sighed, “Speaking of.” You leaned up to kiss Ben once before you rolled out of bed, treading to the nursery as you listened to the baby begin to cry.

You stepped into the room, crossing to the crib to pick up Beckett. Even while crying, he made your heart stop, with Ben’s nose and your eyes and the smallest little fingers you had ever seen. You picked him up and carried him to the changing table, humming quietly as you did so. The three of you had fallen into a routine rather easily, so changing Beckett is much easier than you had even imagined it being. 

You smile down at him. “Feel better?” You cooed quietly. Though Ben had ruined all of Beckett’s smiles at the moment by reminding you they were a reflex rather than an actual smile, the way his lips quirked up still made your heart race. You picked him up, resting him easily against your chest as you retreated back to your bedroom, smiling softly as he began to wake up, the noises he was making carrying down the hall.

You padded into your bedroom, stomach flipping at the sight of Ben waiting for you, one arm behind his head as he scrolled through his phone, his hand resting on his bare stomach. He looked up to see you two and broke into a smile so big that you were sure it must have hurt, dropping his phone and sitting up.

You sat beside him, crossing your legs and laying Beckett on his back. “Good morning, handsome,” Ben greeted, allowing your son to grasp his finger. Beckett cooed in response and Ben leaned down to kiss his forehead. “Thank you.”

You chuffed a laugh, leaning into your boyfriend’s side and smiling down at your son, sighing in content. Sunday mornings used to be spent alone, or getting tipsy at brunch with your friends, and you couldn’t help but think that this was infinitely better. The vague picture you had formed when you’d found out you were pregnant made you smile; you had barely seen Ben in it when you had first imagined it, but now all the edges were sharp, details crystal clear. It was you and Ben and Beckett, together. The way it was meant to be.


	11. Epilogue

A loud crash echoed throughout the house and you groaned as Beckett squealed. “Was an accident!” He exclaimed, glancing up at you with those wide eyes that made you weak. 

Picking him up and tiptoeing around the shattered glass, you set him safely on the carpet. “I know, babe. Why don’t you go see dad? He’s in the office.”

Your son had taken off at the mention of his father, his little feet pattering down the hall toward the office, Frankie following him faithfully; you waited, listening for the familiar squeak of the door, followed by the ever-familiar yell from your son. “Dad!”

“Beckett!” Ben teased distantly.

You smiled despite yourself, walking back to the kitchen and frowning at the sight of one more of your nice glasses shattered to pieces on the tile. You couldn’t be mad at Beckett; after all, it was you who had left the glass on the edge of the counter. You just had to be glad that it was empty. You pulled the broom from the closet, shooing a curious Milo away from the mess as you began to clean it up. You could hear Ben and Beckett talking as they came down the hallway and you’re just about to bend down and sweep up the mess when you hear Ben tutting. 

“Beck, can you tell mum what we just talked about?” He asked your son, his green eyes dancing with mirth as you smirked at him.

“Pretty girls aren’t allowed to clean messes,” Beckett stated proudly.

You chuckled softly, standing up straight. “No messes at _all_?” You teased.

“Nope,” he popped back, grinning brightly at you. You looked up to Ben.

“Your dad should know that he can’t tell me what to do,” you teased.

Ben clicked his tongue at you, motioning you over with a nod of his head. Despite your insistence, you stepped over the pile to stand before Ben, smiling at him as he gave you a knowing look. He kissed you chastely, once and twice and a third time, ignoring Beckett’s indignant grunt as he passed your son to you. “Let me clean it,” he pushed as you settled the toddler on your hip.

“If you insist,” you teased, looking to Beckett with a playful glance. Your boy just smiled back at you, wrapping his arms around your neck in a suffocating hug that you gratefully returned. 

“How long do we have until everyone gets here?” Ben asked, a small glance up at you before he began sweeping the glass into the dustpan. 

You glanced over Beckett’s shoulder at your watch, grateful your toddler had loosened his grip. “About ten minutes.”

Ben stood with the quietest of all grunts and crossed to the pantry to throw the glass away, tucking the broom in neatly. Careful still of the tile, he grinned over at you. “Perfect timing. I’m going to vacuum, if you want to get Beckett out of his pajamas.”

You nodded, setting Beckett on his feet and looking down at him. “Hey, dad’s got your clothes picked out on the couch in your room. You wanna start getting changed?”

Beckett gave you a proud nod and ran off down the hall, now followed by Milo, though you were sure Frankie was already settled on the rug in his room. Ben raised a brow at you. “You know he can’t change by himself, right?”

“No, Ben, I, as Beckett’s mother, fully assumed my two-year-old would be able to dress himself with no problem,” you rolled your eyes, wrapping an arm around Ben’s waist. “He can get out of his pajamas by himself. I just want a second alone with you.”

“Bad mum,” he teased, his hand trailing down your back to squeeze your ass. You squealed, giggling quietly and squirming in his arms.

“He doesn’t let me do it anyway.”

“Headstrong,” he shook his head. “Reminds me of someone.” 

You rolled your eyes, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “We’ve got eight minutes. Better get vacuuming.”

“God, a cool two minutes with my fiancée. She’s being generous today.” He groaned, kissing you again. “Go put clothes on your kid.”

He released you and nudged you in the direction of the hallway, watching you walk away with a small smile. You turned into Beckett’s room, smiling at your son, who looked at you proudly. “Hello,” you beamed, reaching out for the shirt he handed you.

“Nice shirt,” he mumbled half-heartedly, raising his arms to let you put it on. 

“It _is_ nice, isn’t it?” You replied quietly, straightening it out. “Are you excited to see everyone?”

He grinned brightly, nodding excitedly and clapping his hands. “And cake!”

You laughed, nodding as you pulled his shorts up. “The boy is excited for cake,” you murmured with a smile. “Don’t worry, Beck. You’ll be eating a _lot_ of cake.”

He jumped up and wrapped you in another tight hug, completely unaware of your surprised grunt. His little face scrunched as he yelled in excitement, making your brows raise in surprise. At the sound of the doorbell, he pulled away to look at you. “It’s Smith?” He asked brightly.

You grinned at him, tickling his sides to hear his laugh. “Maybe. Let’s go see.”

You chased your son down the hallway, both of you giggling and jumping around a surprised Ben, who could only watch you with wide eyes as he put the vacuum away. Beckett beat you to the door, but only by a second, his tiny hands reaching for the lock on the front door excitedly. You laughed, batting his hands away to open the door and greet your friends. Outside, Smith and Jessie stood, a present in hand and smiles on their faces.

Smith immediately dropped to his knees, matching Beckett’s excited yelling and wrapping the little boy in his arms. Smith had been the least ready to accept Beckett into your circle, but had, without hesitation, been the first to bond with your son, time and time again coming up as the favorite uncle, a badge he wore with pride, much to the distaste of your other friends.

“Happy birthday, Bucket!” Smith teased, standing straight and holding the boy on his hip (”Just wait,” Smith always teased, “until he’s old enough for me to call him Bucket Asser”). Your son beamed so brightly that you couldn’t help but laugh softly, wrapping an arm around Jessie and grabbing the gift from her, allowing Ben to say his hellos as you put the gift on the coffee table.

“Thank you,” Beckett smiled, happily accepting the kiss on the cheek Jessie gave him, twisting in Smith’s arms to wrap an arm around Jessie’s neck in a quasi-hug, making you chuckle at the awkward angle.

“Beck, you’re choking Jess,” Ben laughed at your friend’s slight panic, despite how used she had gotten to your son’s aggressive affection. He pulled away, patting her in an attempt to offer a silent apology. You smiled.

There was a knock on the open door, the rest of your friends standing on your porch with gifts in their hands. “We heard it was someone’s birthday,” Mark teased, reaching forward to tickle Beckett a little bit.

You ushered everyone inside, balloons and gifts and loud chattering filling your living room. Rylie, as well as she could, hugged Smith while he held Beckett, your son thriving under all the attention he was receiving. You knew he didn’t really understand why he was the center of attention (though it was rare he wasn’t), but he obviously didn’t care, putting on a show for all your friends as they watched him.

Ben sidled up to your side, wrapping an arm around your waist and watching your friends fawn over the birthday boy. Since the day he was born, he had been not only the center of your world, but your friends’ as well, it seemed. They had fallen in love with him the moment they all met him (none more than Smith, and he’d readily admit it).

“I can’t even believe it,” Ben whispered in your ear, pressing a chaste kiss to your ear.

“Me neither,” you sighed, watching your friends smother him in kisses. In a couple of months, Rylie and Harry would be having Olivia, and you knew that Jessie and Smith were looking into fostering, but for now, Beckett was the center of attention, just the way he liked it, the way he had always known.

“We should have another one,” Ben mused, only smiling at your wide eyes and jaw dropped. Unaware, your friends still chattered over Beck, his bright giggle rising above the sound of their voices. 

“Are you serious?” You whispered, turning to face him. 

He shrugged, squeezing you tightly. “I mean, the wedding is only a few weeks away. We’ve always said we wanted more. I think Beckett is the perfect age for a younger sibling. Everything is pointing in the right direction, right?”

You stared up at him, moon-eyed, and you cupped his cheek, unable to formulate any words other than, “Okay.”

“Yeah?” He breathed, leaning into your touch. You nodded, smiling up at him as he whispered, “Okay.”

“Dad, cake?” Beckett asked, loud but sweet, grabbing everyone’s attention as you all looked between one another.

Ben laughed softly, nodding his head. “Yeah, Beck. Let’s have cake.”

You kissed him once more, chastely, before you all padded off to the kitchen, setting Beckett in his high chair as you gather around him. You watched him blow out the candles, sang him happy birthday, and held your breath every time he smiled at you. With Ben’s steadying hand on your knee, and Beckett’s wide eyes watching the two of you for every reaction, you were reminded once again how perfectly you fit into this life. 

There was no way to prepare yourself for Ben and what he would have given you, tearing your life apart at the seams and putting it back together in a way that was far more beautiful than it had ever been, now entwined with him in the most perfect little boy you had met. There was no way to prepare yourself for how much you loved Beckett; it was all-consuming and exhausting and so wonderful and there was no way to prepare yourself for another piece of you and Ben, but just the thought of it made your heart leap. You squeezed Ben’s hand and he squeezed your knee right back, smiling over at you. As you looked over the table, you could almost imagine it; a slightly older Beckett, and a few kids that looked like him, your friend’s kids and all of you, filtering through the open back doors between the backyard and the kitchen, and you smiled. You leaned into Ben’s side, a wave of contentment cresting over you. No, you weren’t prepared. It didn’t matter. Not as long as you had your boys.


End file.
